


The Legion's Catalyst

by AJ_Wright



Series: The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles [1]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft (Manga), Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics), World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Adventure, Battle, Demon Hunters, Demons, Dwarves, Elves, F/M, Fantasy, Mages, Magic, Parallel Universe, Passion, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Wright/pseuds/AJ_Wright
Summary: World of Warcraft, an MMORPG, with nearly 10 million players worldwide. Imagine finding yourself in Azeroth for real, a parallel universe of the game, knowing of certain events about to occur. What would you do? Who would you trust? And would you dare fall in love with a charismatic NPC?





	1. OVERTURE

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was the first Fanfic I wrote , so I hope you enjoy it. This is the 1st in The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles and is based around the Legion expansion of World of Warcraft.
> 
> I have used some of the lore as reference and guidance and tried to keep it pretty much as folks who play the game will be familiar with, but this is primarily a love story (yes, it's very girlie, and yes, I can hear some of you groan).
> 
> I hope none of you hardened WoW-ers take offense at any of the content. It is in the end, merely a work of fanfiction, a place to escape, so I admit I may have interpreted some of the references wrongly, perhaps even completely screwed them up.
> 
> But, please read on, and hopefully enjoy it enough for what it is...
> 
> All comments, advice and suggestions are welcome so please feel free to let me know what you think.
> 
> All rights for the recognised World of Warcraft NPC's, lore and locations in this story belong to Blizzard. All other characters, interaction & general development of the story belong to myself.

 

* * *

 

This night would change  _everything_. Sarah watched, heart pounding against her ribcage as her king led the army up over the Broken Shore. There they would engage in a fierce, truly terrifying battle against the myriad of demons already advancing, eager to bring about the slaughter of Alliance and Horde armies alike.

She glanced towards the ridge above the shore. There, Sylvannas stood her ground, shouting orders to her archers. Their fletched missiles rained down upon the demonic abominations pouring forth from the Tomb of Sargeras. Their numbers however, were never-ending.

King Varian forged forward. "Victory is ours!" he shouted. "Hold fast!  _Mekkatorque_!"

High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque, king of the gnomes raised his goggles and looked down from his ginormous battlesuit. Varian shouted the order. "We finish this now! Call in the gunship!"

"Way ahead of you sir!" the gnome replied while at the same time he raised his weaponised arm and blasted an approaching demon.

"Good one Mek!" Sarah shouted, punching the air. A moment later, she screamed as a swarm of felbats attacked the army. She ducked instinctively. King Varian plunged his sword, Shalamayne, through one of the foul beasts as it dove towards him. He mortally wounded his target; it's wings flapping in the death throes as it hit the ground, innards and blood seeping over the dark, dry, cracked earth. "Genn!  _Genn_!" Varian hollered at the Gilnean monarch, Genn Greymane.

The silver-haired worgen, with fangs bared and claws fully extended, turned to face the king of Stormwind. "My Lord!" he growled in reply.

"Push forward! And get Windrunners's archers to clear the skies!"

A horn then sounded, a forlorn call across the darkened sky. Disbelief crossed Varian's scarred features as he witnessed Sylvannas and her archers retreat. "No…" he breathed. "She  _wouldn't_ …"

" _No_!" Sarah shouted. "How could she?" She felt utter dismay at the Forsaken's betrayal.

Genn joined Varian and growled, outraged at the Horde's deception. "I knew it!" His eyes burned with hatred. "I knew we couldn't trust her."

The Alliance gunship, Skyfire, then arrived overhead to pick up survivors. Genn glanced up as the huge hull cast its shadow over them. "Without the Horde, we'll be overrun! We must retreat!"

Sarah watched with growing horror as the demons continued to advance. ""For God sake! Move your arse!" she screamed at Varian.

"You did not just shout that at the king!" Drew gasped, a wide grin stretching his mouth. Sarah punched him in the arm.

Varian looked up and saw more felguards approaching; their enormous armoured bulk clunking over the ground, swords and cleavers swinging as they decimated more soldiers, body parts sent to the four winds in their wake. The king, despondant, sheathed his sword and ordered everyone to the gunship. As he ascended the rope ladder, a fireball hurtled towards the Skyfire.

"Hard to port!" Genn ordered. The gunship barely evaded the attack and the fireball exploded on the ground below. The blast rocked the gunship causing Varian to almost lose his grip of the ladder. An enormous felreaver rose from the explosion and grabbed the gunship's hull.

Genn, now in his human form reached down to the king, his friend and shouted for Varian to take his hand.

Sarah watched, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide. She started to shake her head.

Drew, mimicking the Gilnean accent muttered. "I've got a bad feeling." He yelped once more as Sarah slapped his arm again, her eyes never leaving the scene in front of her.

Varian reached up to Genn. But, instead of accepting his help, he thrust a letter into the Gilnean's hand. "Take this to my son," he said.

Sarah wailed and next dug her fingers into Drew's thigh. "Oh god no! Don't do it Varian."

Drew winced. "Sod Varian! Stop digging your nails in, woman!"

Sarah was glued as Varian leaped from the ladder. With Shalamayne unsheathed once more he ploughed his way through firstly the felreaver that was crippling the Skyfire, then, splitting his blade to reveal Ellemayne he sliced through felguards as he focused on reaching the loathsome creature who had brought all this bloodshed to fruition. Gul'dan.

Sarah's hands shot to her face again, allowing Drew's blood to flow freely through his thigh once more. She peered through her fingers at the king as Drew sighed with relief and slumped back on the couch.

Sarah cried openly as King Varian was brought to his knees by another felguard which attacked him from behind, slicing his back, then impaling him with two spears.

Through tears, Sarah witnessed her king, on his knees in front of the orc warlock, Gul'dan. The warlock grinned. "You will be remembered as the king who sacrificed his life … for  _nothing_!"

Varian, defiant to the last, took a deep breath. "For the Alliance!" He glared at Gul'dan.

"For the Alliance," Sarah mirrored in a hoarse whisper.

The warlock's twisted features contorted even more as he filled Varian's body with fel energy. Varian screamed as the power engulfed him, his skin ripped, eyes bulged and then his body exploded.

Sarah howled with despair and hit the off button on her laptop. She turned to face Drew who was still slumped against the cushions, massaging his thigh. "That … was  _horrible_!" She suffered a series of wracking sobs.

Drew's eyes widened. She was utterly obsessed with World of Warcraft. "Jeez, Sarah! Come on, it's just a game! Lighten up!"

"I know!" she sobbed, nodding agreement and trying to laugh at the absurdity of her reaction. "But that was so … unnecessary!" She then realised she had hurt Drew with her nails and apologised profusely. She reached out and rubbed his thigh. He grinned, enjoying the attention, perhaps a little too much. "But if..." she said almost in a growl. " If, somehow, I was to get portalled, or whatever to Azeroth, I would change that story line _completely_!" Her bottom lip pouted and Drew yelled as her nails dug into his thigh once more.


	2. TRAFFIC

Sarah Metcalfe stared at the clock on the office wall. Four thirty-three. She sighed heavily and hung her head. Today had been yet another long day of answering phones, printing letters, folding them into envelopes, updating spreadsheets and databases. Oh, the joy.

"Will you stop that!" her colleague, Louise Jeffries, laughed from the other side of the pod. "You are wishing your life away."

"Only the one spent in here," Sarah replied, rolling her eyes in frustration.

"And the life I am offering, is what she truly hungers for," Drew Stewart injected from the third seat at the pod. He grinned mischievously at Sarah. She glowered at him from under dark lashes, shaking her head. He was always teasing her. She let him away with most of it as he had turned out to be her best friend since her moving into the area nearly five years ago. They gelled pretty quick as they shared the same kind of humour and he was kind and understanding. He particularly loved to tease her about World of Warcraft. It had started out as a little haven for her when times had been bad, and she only played now and again. But within in the last year, she had become addicted, to the point she rarely socialised outside now.

Drew shrugged and leaned over the pod. "I am offering her a night of insurmountable passion!" he whispered to Louise, after checking that no-one else in the nearby pods could over-hear.

Louise guffawed. "Yeah, right! She's not that desperate, mate."

"Desperate? You cheeky cow, I am a stallion between the sheets I'll have you know," he stood, and after checking no-one else was watching flexed and emphasised his five foot eleven inch frame.

"Ha! More like a Shetland pony from what I've heard!" Louise snorted. "Got the mane to go with it too," she smirked pointing at his shoulder-length black hair. Drew pouted, pretending to be offended, then grinned and sat down again.

Sarah joined in the mirth. "I do wish you two would stop speaking as if I'm in third person."

"There you are! Did you just step through a portal?" Drew feigned surprise as he made reference to her favourite pastime.

"Very funny!" Sarah pinged an elastic band at him, which he artfully dodged, then she continued folding the two hundred letters she had printed off. She glanced up at him with a smirk. "I have heard every single dumbassed word that has emanated from your mouth Drew Stewart, and as usual, it's just verbal diarrhoea."

He shrugged and threw a scrunched up biscuit wrapper at her. She swatted it away with one of the letters. The three colleagues laughed lightly, before he spoke again. "Seriously, Sarah, it's Friday night! Why don't you come out with us to the pub? Have a few bevvies, then a curry, then... you and I could party on down at my place." He gave her his best smoulder.

Sarah couldn't help but smile. He was the only one who she would tolerate saying such things to her. Mainly because he had been there for her, giving support when times of self-loathing had hit her hard. The run up to her divorce when she had moved out of the marital home in Edinburgh had been particularly hard. Trying to settle, forty miles south of the city in a new home, new town and new job was daunting to say the least, but Drew had befriended her quickly and eased her transition from dutiful, though latterly miserable wife to nervous, self-doubting divorcee. But, also, she felt comfortable around him. Her confidence had taken a severe beating in Edinburgh and it took her a long time to regain it. Drew however, had helped immensely.

Her ex-husband, Pete Metcalfe, had been an influential businessman thirteen years her senior, who, it turned out, really just wanted an attractive ornament clinging to his arm. She didn't realise that to begin with. On reflection, she had been naive and married way too young. He'd thrived on being the king pin, entertaining colleagues and potential clients in his large city apartment. Being from a working class background, Sarah had initially been taken in by it all. But, being the hopeless romantic she was, she simply wanted a husband who loved and treasured her.

As time had went on, some of his ideas for entertaining had been nothing short of degrading. There were games she just was not willing to play, no matter what. So, the relationship had started and ended within five years. It wasn't until then she finally admitted, he was nothing more than a self-opinionated, workaholic, emotionless, smug, vile bastard, and he had very quickly replaced her with another "ornament" once she was off the scene. She had retained her married name, not as a bittersweet reminder of her disastrous union but simply because she couldn't be bothered to notify the likes of her bank, her doctor, various online subscriptions etc. It was just too much of an effort at the time, and now it seemed a pointless task anyway. It was just a name after all.

Back to the present and there was no denying Drew was a hot-bloodied, good-looking male, who more often than not had females ogling him as he passed by. Nonetheless, she had not considered their friendship being anything other than what it was. Uncomplicated. And that was how she liked it.

"Oh, oh!" Louise whispered. "He's horny again, Sarah."

"When is he not? Have you got the necessary?"

Drew glanced between the two women, unsure what they were up to and a little wary. He had been subjected to their pranks in the past, most of which were harmless, but nevertheless well thought out.

"Just looking for it. Now where did I put that fly-swatter..." Louise pretended to look for it around her desk area.

Drew looked insulted. The two women chuckled at his expression. He gave way to a knowing smirk. They were only teasing him. Once the mirth had subsided, Sarah said, "The only horny devil I will party on down with this evening, is..."

"Illidan Stormrage!" both her friends said simultaneously, with a sigh, a shrug and a smirk. They had heard all about the half elf half demon for weeks now so it wasn't difficult to surmise where Sarah would be wanting to spend her evening. In front of her computer.

"Well," Sarah fumbled for justification of her infatuation with the latest patch of Warcraft, "I like the lore and it can be funny, exciting but so sad at times..."

"For goodness sake, " Louise sighed, "It's just a game, and you get all caught up in it as if it's real. You'll have more fun with us living and breathing real people, honestly. Just nip home, get changed and out we go."

The three of them stared out the window as the sound of heavy rain suddenly battered off the glass. The look on Drew and Louise's faces made it plain that the thought of going out in that mess was not quite as appealing now. A triumphant smirk crossed Sarah's face and she clucked her tongue. "Well, I guess my idea of an evening's entertainment is the better choice after all," she said somewhat smugly.

The traffic crawled that night. The rain, by five fifteen, was relentless, making the roads hazardous with excess water. Sarah grew more impatient as she moved at a snail's pace. Only six miles to go, but it looked like it could take the best part of half an hour or longer to reach home. She drew to a halt as vehicles waited their turn to get onto the Kingsknowes roundabout.

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she thought about what she could throw together quickly for tea. Beans on toast! Perfect. And while the bread was toasting and the beans warming, she'd slip into her pyjamas and fire up her computer, ready for battle.

The traffic inched forward. The car behind honked its horn at her, to which she responded with a middle-fingered salute in her rear-view mirror. The car honked again. Then another one joined in. And another. She strained against the headlights reflecting in her mirror to see what was going on.

Then a low humming noise began. As it intensified, the very ground seemed to vibrate. "What the..." She looked about her, a little alarmed. Was she imagining it, or were all the car headlights getting brighter?

More horns. The humming was starting to become unbearable, like pressure against her eardrums. This was strangely unnerving. She peered through the rivulets streaming down her windscreen.

The lights were getting brighter, but not only that, they were changing colour. They were turning green. The humming had now become a very loud whirring, like the rotor blades of a helicopter. Sarah raised her hands to her ears.

Her car lurched forward. She squealed in panic. It lurched again, further this time. Her hands were back on the steering wheel, holding tightly as if she was on a white-knuckle ride. The green light was fluorescent, pulsing.

The whirring was beating down on her, it felt like the sound could actually crush her and her little Astra. Then another sound, like millions of gallons of water surrounded her.

Her car shot forward, this time it didn't stop. She screamed, her lungs ready to explode, then...

"Are you in any pain?" a somewhat calming yet authoritative voice reached out to her through the haze of semi-consciousness. Her eyes slowly focused.

A man with silver, slightly tousled hair was standing over her, studying her intently. As her vision improved she met his steel eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Lukha, I think she needs some of the health potion. Quickly, please." Without looking, he held out his hand, waiting for the potion to be handed to him.

"Right away," an accented voice replied. Another figure neared, this one was female, with blue skin and small horns protruding from her forehead. Sarah blinked furiously. The girl looked like a draenei. From World of Warcraft! The female handed the requested item to the man and smiled pleasantly at Sarah.

"Thank you Lukha." Briefly, the man looked at the draenei before turning his attention back to Sarah. "Can you understand me?" He asked, uncorking the potion.

She nodded slowly, still stunned, speechless.

He reached over and with his left hand he supported the back of her head, helping her rise enough to drink of the potion. She caught a whiff of something spicy yet utterly masculine. His cologne. It was most pleasing to her senses. He brought the small vial to her lips. "Drink this, it will make you feel better although perhaps a little drowsy too," he said. His mouth curled up at the corners in a reassuring smile.

She sipped the red potion, never once taking her eyes from him. Her mind was trying hard to rationalise the whole unbelievable situation. This could not be remotely possible. Could it?

Her eyes flitted to the draenei again. She was stunning; skin like blue alabaster, not a blemish in sight. Almond shaped eyes that glowed silver when the light reflected in them a certain way were otherwise a very pale blue, enhanced by beautiful long lashes. Sarah desperately wanted to know if she really had cloven feet and a tail, but the angle at which she lay prevented her seeing. She refrained from blurting out what could potentially be a very impertinent question, and allowed her eyes to drift back to the man as he dabbed the corner of her mouth with a light cloth.

Gently, he lowered her head to the pillow again. She watched, silently, as he replaced the cork and gave the half empty vial back to Lukha. The draenei turned away and placed the bottle within a small square case on the sideboard adjacent to the bed. By the tiny clink and rattle of glass, Sarah assumed the case was a medicinal container with a myriad of potions and elixirs.

The man was a little hesitant at first, but then draped the blanket over Sarah, taking care to rest her arms over it and by her sides. His steel eyes met her misty brown ones. She was starting to drift off. She moaned, shifting a little in the bed, trying to ward off her encroaching torpidity. There was no way she was going to allow sleep to rob her of this moment. Her fight to remain conscious was slipping from her, but she tried desperately to keep her eyes open.

There were subtle differences to the game version, but still, there was no mistake. Just before the darkness engulfed her completely, she managed a hint of a smile as she realised she had been staring up into the chiselled features of the Archmage Khadgar.


	3. ARRIVAL

Sarah's eyes flickered open. The light in the room was soft and subtle. Disorientated after her sleep, she blinked a few times trying to get her bearings. "Where am I?" She tried to push herself up.

The young draenei rushed to her side. "You must stay still," the girl said softly. "Allow me to examine you. We can discuss your whereabouts later."

"I'm dreaming," Sarah tried to rationalise, whispering the possibilities to herself. "Or... unconscious?" Her mind started to relive the traffic jam. "Oh my god, I've been in an accident!" She patted her body in several places, then clasped her hands to her face. There were no signs of serious injury that she could tell, just a few grazes and bumps to her head, shoulders and neck.

A small laugh came from the foot of the bed. The man, Khadgar, had retreated to a seat next to base of the bunk on which she lay. He watched with mild amusement as she frantically checked herself for injury. Sarah stared at him, both in awe and admiration. Her memory of his administering a potion came to the fore. This had to be a dream, her way of handling whatever had happened to her in real life. As such, she wanted to enjoy this; it was after all, her "safe place", this fantasy world. Her panic eased and she braved a little roleplay. "Khadgar?"

He flinched. The draenei woman shared a look of surprise with him. "You... _know_  me?" he asked. "I am at a disadvantage, forgive me. You are...?"

She had never paid much attention to this character in the game as she had others. There was no denying, however, here and now, in the flesh, he was very charismatic. "Sarah," she finally managed. "Sarah Metcalfe."

A knock came to the door and she heard heavy footfalls enter the room. Another draenei came into view. This one was male, and  _huge_! He was a distinguished individual.  _Perhaps a paladin_ , she thought, taking his attire and armour into consideration. The draenei male smiled at her, inclining his head in salutation, before turning to the Archmage. "Khadgar, we must make haste. The King awaits." He had a deep resounding voice and the signature accent of the race. Sarah smiled to herself.

Khadgar sighed a little irritably, but nodded in agreement. "Alright, Ocel. I will meet you outside." Ocel turned and left. Khadgar rose from his seat, moved along to the side of the bunk and looked down at her. She guessed he was in the region of six foot, perhaps a little more. Very subtley, she inhaled his scent, another thing she remembered from earlier.

"Well, nice to meet you Sarah, but for now, I have some matters of importance to attend, so Lukha..." he gestured to the young female draenei, "... will see to your needs." He hesitated a moment, then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Sarah held out a hand in protest, just scuffing his robes as he almost passed outwith her reach. She needed answers and she didn't want him to leave.  _Was_  this a dream? If so, what answer would he give her, she wondered. A tiny part of her was also clinging to the insane hope that all of it was real. While she found this strange experience both exhilarating and unbelievable, she wanted to know what had happened to her. Was the Archmage merely a representation of perhaps a doctor in real life; a trick of her mind to help her get through this? But, if (and she knew deep down it was pointless hoping, but still…) if this was real, how did she arrive here? Where exactly was she?

The Archmage faced her once more, his steel eyes softened. "We will talk later... Sarah Metcalfe." With the hint of a smile, he inclined his head, then turned and left the room. Sarah raised herself up on her elbow and stared after him. She continued to watch the door even after he quietly closed it.

"You have captured his interest," her young nurse, Lukha said in the familiar draenei accent.

Sarah looked round at young woman. She was lovely, more so than they were even portrayed in the game. Sarah smiled half-heartedly. Answers it seemed would have to wait, so in the meantime, she was going to roll with it. "Another new specimen for him to study I guess?" she enquired.

The draenei looked at her quizzically. "Specimen? That is a strange way to describe yourself. But I think, Sarah Metcalfe..." Lukha's eyes twinkled, "...his interest in you is more than merely scientific."

Sarah guffawed. "You interpret a polite nod and a smile as a come-on?"

"A 'come-on'? I do not understand." Lukha's brow furrowed and she tilted her head, inquisitively.

"Flirtatious behaviour," Sarah explained.

Lukha smiled, lowering her head. "Oh no, the Archmage does not flirt. But, he has done more than just smile and nod at you," she said as she finished tidying away the bowl of water and healing potions that lay on a table next to the bunk.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in a quizzical fashion. The young draenei continued smiling as she explained, "It was  _he_  who remained by your side since he found you in the forest. It was  _he_  who mopped your brow, and applied the balm to the grazes on your forehead and shoulder. He stood outside when I checked the rest of your body of course, for any sign of other wounds, though. He is always so respectful, and decent...and kind..." Sarah heard Lukha sigh a little. Did the draenei have a little crush perhaps? Lukha blinked then continued, hurriedly. "We could not tell if you had any internal injuries though, as our healers were required out in the field, so we...I mean Khadgar, watched over you."

Sarah lay back down on the bunk, astounded by Lukha's words. "So, the  _Archmage_ nursed me?"

Lukha nodded as she sorted the blanket around her patient. "He was concerned about you."

Sarah felt honoured. She nestled against her pillows, smiling as the story unfolded. "So, just how long have I been here?"

"He brought you here two evenings ago."

Sarah bolted upright. Her head swam at the suddenness of her movement. " _What_?! I've been unconscious for almost  _two days_?" Even in her dreams she didn't conjure up time so specifically. She clasped her forehead and waited a few moments for the dizziness to fade. The syndrome felt a bit too real for her liking.  _You don't actually feel such things in dreams_ , she thought. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bunk.

"I advise you not to get up so fast, Sarah." Lukha came round by her side, concern etched on her pretty blue features.

"I'll be fine, thank you," Sarah assured her, "just give me a moment please." The lightheadedness faded, but her mind was starting to work overtime. Her fingers kneaded the sheet below. It was very real indeed. Glancing around the room, she took in every detail. A small chest of drawers with a mirror sat against the wall next to a tallboy. Both looked in need of renovation. Another sideboard was host to a bowl and pitcher along with Lukha's little medicine case. Two landscape paintings, not particularly good ones, hung crooked on the wall above. Some burned down candles sat, dilapidated, on tarnished candleholders.

As Sarah straightened, Lukha watched with mild concern. The last thing the draenei wanted was for her assigned patient to collapse and suffer more injuries. Positioning herself alongside Sarah, she made ready to catch her if she stumbled.

Sarah smiled her appreciation. Oddly, in contrast to the rest of the room, the rug underfoot was plush and she wiggled her toes over the soft pile before she slowly rose and put weight on her feet. She was a little wobbly to start but with Lukha's steadying hands she smiled and made small steps forward. "And who was that man who came for Khadgar?" She asked, stumbling a little as she tried to speed up her progress.

"That was my uncle, Vindicator Ocel," Lukha took hold of Sarah's upper arm and cupped the elbow in her other hand for more stability. "He is visiting from the Exodar. He has some business here. He and the Archmage are great friends."

Sarah acknowledged with a nod. Still on slightly unsteady legs, she ventured to the small window on the north facing wall. Lukha released her hold of her as she had the sill for support now. Sarah pushed the window shutter lightly and it opened in one smooth motion.

Her jaw dropped as she drank in the vista. A tall cathedral spire dominated the view to the west, and slightly to the east in the distance, the unmistakable bastions and battlements of an impressive keep. Large gulls swooped towards the vast harbour off behind the cathedral, where she could just make out masts of ships some of which were departing to destinations she could readily guess at.

Her breathing was rapid and her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it quite plainly. She leaned on the sill of the open window. Suddenly, how she had come to be here, and whether it was dream or not, didn't matter anymore. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the breeze carrying the sounds and smells of the city gently brush her cheek and play with her hair. Half anticipating the city to have vanished when she re-opened her eyes, she sighed loudly when her expectations were unfounded. There it was. In all its glory; the sun just breaking through the clouds and bathing the buildings in a warm, yellow glow. Her lips split into a broad smile as she embraced her arrival in the city which she had become familiar with through her computer screen.

"Stormwind," she breathed.


	4. THE NEW CITIZEN

"What do you  _mean_  she has gone out?" Khadgar asked the innkeeper.

Jarel busied himself drying a glass with exaggerated attention to detail. He held it to the light to inspect for any smudges. He breathed on it then rubbed it with the cloth once more. "She wanted to explore the city, Archmage. Who am  _I_  to stop her?"

"The man who readily accepted my coin to keep an eye on her!" Khadgar spat back. He growled under his breath and started pacing back and forth, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if easing tension. Jarel watched him, one brow cocked and a small smirk on his lips. "How long ago did she leave?" Khadgar's irritable tone made Jarel lower the glass.

"About three hours ago, I think," Jarel replied, a little unsettled by the Archmage's ire.

Khadgar grunted again, spun round and hurried out of the tavern. The innkeeper resumed his diligent cleaning. "Tetchy!" he muttered under his breath.

_Now, where on Azeroth would she go_? Khadgar wondered. The city was vast. It could take some time to locate her. With a whoosh of air and flurry of feathers, he transformed once more into a raven. He scanned the city streets below. Still agitated, he really didn't have time to be fussing over the whereabouts of this woman; this new citizen.

Granted, he had decided to take responsibility for her having found her at Stone Cairn Lake. A green flare had caught his attention while flying back to Stormwind from the Broken Isles. He'd suspected fel energy, but on investigation, discovered the unconscious woman instead. Morphing back into his human form, he'd crouched down beside the body. A strange device he found lying halfway out of the bag that lay next to her in Elwynn forest must have been what had grabbed his attention from the air. It was flashing with different coloured images before it suddenly went black. He had tucked it back inside the bag then he turned his attention to the limp form on the grass. Gently, he brushed long deep auburn hair aside to reveal a young woman; human by all accounts, yet, alien too. She groaned, scrunching up her face, clearly in pain. In an instant, he conjured a portal to Stormwind and lifting the woman as gently as he could, he stepped through.

In the city, he took her to an inn in the Mage Quarter, The Slaughtered Lamb. Its upper rooms had long been closed to travellers but on offering a generous amount of gold, the innkeeper, Jarel, had agreed to open them up for the Archmage and his wounded guest.

Khadgar had reasoned the inn to be a good place to keep the woman's presence quiet. Its basement was a well known training area for warlocks and so, nervous of the spell-weavers and their oft demonic companions, very few clientelle ever entered the place.

The Archmage had sent word to Lukha, a draenei woman who helped him with various errands in the city from time to time and was also the niece of his closest friend. She responded quickly, bringing medicines, bandages and extra ladies clothing to the inn. She arrived with her uncle, Vindicator Ocel, who was visiting her at the time. Khadgar instructed Lukha to undress the woman and check for any injuries elsewhere on her person. He took his leave from the room, pacing back and forth outside informing Ocel of how and where he had discovered the woman. His friend offered to go check out the area, just to confirm Khadgar's instincts were correct. They agreed to keep things quiet for the time being. Lukha called the Archmage back in once she had finished her examination of the woman.

"There are no physical signs of injury Archmage, other than those to her forehead, neck and left shoulder. I have given her a mild sedative however, and dressed her in sleeping attire, so she is perfectly respectable for you to visit."

Khadgar nodded his appreciation. "You may return to your family now Lukha, I will watch over her this evening."

"Thank you, Archmage," the draenei bowed in respect.

"The name is Khadgar, Lukha, you know this. Please call me by my name." He smiled as she bowed again and left him to carry out his vigil.

"I will launder her clothes and return in the morning ... Khadgar," she said quietly as she closed the door.

Once he was alone with the injured woman, he pulled up a chair beside her. For a while he simply watched her sleeping. The steadiness of her breathing as the netherweave blanket rose and fell was strangely mesmerising. The soft contours of her face, framed by the long deep auburn hair, was very pleasing to the eye. He chastised himself for taking such notice and crossed his left knee with his right then clasped his hands on his lap.

His eyes would drift over her occasionally and the infrequent sigh or murmur that escaped her lips had him leaning closer. After a few fruitless attempts at gauging her mumblings, he contented himself that she would be asleep the rest of the night at least, and turned his attention to the bag she had had close to her person when he'd found her. He swithered whether to look inside, but perhaps it would provide answers about his mysterious victim, if, indeed that was what she was.

Tentatively, he slid the zip along and looked inside. The rectangular device he had seen at the lake met his searching fingers first. It was slender, made of glass and some kind of thin metal. He almost dropped it when turning it over in his hand, and tightened his grip. The action caused it to burst into life. He was startled at first, but then relaxed as he saw a picture of a beautiful coastline. It was not one he was familiar with. Was it perhaps where she came from, he wondered. Small symbols flashed at the top of the photograph but he had no idea what they meant. Suddenly it vibrated and made a pinging noise. He watched, fascinated, as the picture vanished and the words  _Low_   _Battery_ appeared in its place. Then it went black. He shook it, but nothing happened. Carefully he slipped it back into the bag.

Next he found a small tube of sorts. On twisting it, it opened. There was a deep burgundy substance in one section of the tube. It was quite solid, and the colour stained his fingertip when he examined it. He glanced at the woman as she moaned quietly. The tint of her lips were not unlike the substance in the tube. He deduced it was a lip balm of sorts. He found a purse and was intrigued by the paper notes inside. Some were blue with a picture of a woman who appeared to be of noble birth. Others, brown in colour, had a youngish looking man on them and the words  _Bank of Scotland_. He smiled. "So is this perhaps where you are from? A place called Scotland?" He searched his impressive memory for place names, but nowhere had he come across this  _Scotland_. There were various coloured cards of some kind slotted in little pockets in the purse's top flap. Coins, he assumed, of varying sizes and metals clinked in another compartment of the purse. He found nothing else that could tell him who this woman was however, and so he replaced all the items and put the bag down next to the small table at the bedside.

Next, he took out his own note book from a deep pocket within his robes. He started to jot down his findings. Before he knew it, he had written more than he had intended. He glanced over at her as she shifted slightly in her sleep. The way the candlelight highlighted her features inspired him to create a most competent sketch of her as she continued to lie in a peaceful slumber beside him. He paused as she emitted a gentle moan, her lips, plump and moist. He was mesmerised. Shaking his head to eliminate such inappropriate thoughts, he snapped his notebook closed.

Reflecting when he had found her in Elwynn Forest, he thought again of the flash of green which had attracted him in the first instance. Had it just been from the device in her bag? Or was it fel energy, as he had first thought? He had not sensed its potency, as he usually did, certainly. His encounter on The Broken Isles with the orc wizard Gul'dan had left him uneasy and alert to any potential fel presence. But, perhaps it had indeed been utterly benign. He hoped so and also prayed that Ocel would confirm this.

The woman moved again. Very gently he put his hand on her brow. It was warm and clammy. He opened the medicinal balm which Lukha had brought along. Made from a few common herbs and mixed with plant oils, it simply aided in healing cuts and bruises. He smoothed it lightly over the graze on her forehead and her collarbone, then replaced the stopper and the bottle onto the table.

It was fortunate that his services were not in immediate need elsewhere, for the short duration anyhow. This enabled him to keep watch over this intriguing woman. He could rest during the day for a while if he so needed. He grinned. There was no denying the obvious, either. She was beautiful.

That had been over the last two nights however, and now she was awake and on the loose in a city that by all accounts could be dangerous to an outsider. Especially nowadays. The Burning Legion had returned. Sightings all over Azeroth were being reported, but he had found nothing to confirm the stories that they had reached the shores yet. The only thing that he had thought suspicious was the bright green flare where he had found Sarah Metcalfe. Ocel, thankfully had laid his fears to rest. As if to further convince himself, he deemed that this young woman was like no demon he had ever encountered before. He sincerely hoped she wasn't anyway.

* * *

The harbour fascinated Sarah. She watched as all the dockhands busied themselves about their business and guards kept a close eye on all visitors and workers alike. Cloth, leather, wine merchants, weaponsmiths, alchemists, all manner of traders swept to and fro between the harbour and the city's Trade District. Enormous ships, some bound for Kalimdor and others, Northrend, set sail in orderly fashion. Oh how she longed to board one of them, but she guessed Khadgar would be a bit pissed at her if she dared.

She did not know a great deal about the man, other than accepting quests from his NPC version in the game. To be honest, he had not seemed as interesting as the likes of night elves...ahh Illidan! But going by the little knowledge she did have, he was a powerful mage of the Kirin Tor and integral to many of the storylines in Azeroth going back to when he had been but an apprentice to the last Guardian, Medhiv. Of one thing she was absolutely certain, it would be in her best interests  _not_  to upset the man.

Lukha, while seemingly enjoying showing Sarah the city, was nonetheless a tad uneasy. She gave furtive little glances around them every now and again.  _Perhaps she's nervous of the consequences of showing an alien like me around the city,_  Sarah thought. She hoped she wouldn't get into trouble.

The draenei looked like a girl in her late teens perhaps. Stunning to look at, as were all draenei females, she stood a good six inches above Sarah, had the most amazing figure (if you looked past the cloven feet and the tail, which, Sarah had to admit she was rather happy to see in keeping with the draenei in Warcraft). And that accent! It just made her so goddamn attractive.

"So, you got a thing for Khadgar?" Sarah asked her appointed tour guide.

"A  _thing_?" Lukha asked completely innocently.

"Do you fancy him?"

"As what?" Lukha shrugged.

Sarah heaved a sigh. This was not going to be easy.  _Beautiful, but dumb_ , she thought. Then again, she had to remind herself that  _she_  was the outsider here, not the draenei. Which meant the everyday phrases which Sarah came out with would probably sound alien and make no sense at all. She quickly chided herself for her derogatory assumption of the young beauty. She decided being more forthright was the best policy. "Are you in love with him?"

Lukha stumbled on the cobbles. "Good grief!  _No_!" she answered.

Sarah was genuinely surprised. "You're not? I'm sorry, I thought the way you sighed whenever you spoke of him..."

The draenei unexpectedly laughed. "Sarah Metcalfe! You interpret things very oddly. I have a deep respect for the Archmage. He has helped not only my people, but also my immediate family. He is a great man. And apart from all that ... I am happily married."

Sarah gasped. From her own experience, the words happily and married did not necessarily go together. "No way! You are too young to be settled down."

"Young? You think me young?" the draenei looked flattered.

"I'd say about eighteen, nineteen?"

" _Hundred_?" Lukha's expression instantly turned to deeply wounded.

"No!" Sarah gasped. "Just eighteen or nineteen years of age."

Lukha recovered from her mortification and giggled, placing her delicate hand over her mouth as she did so. "Sarah Metcalfe, I am 986 years old."

Sarah's mouth fell open.

"And that, in Draenei terms  _is_  young." Khadgar suddenly appeared beside them, brushing a vagrant raven's feather from his shoulder.

Sarah stepped back, awestruck. "You really  _do_  that?" she gestured to the feather floating to the ground. "You turn into a  _bird_?"

"Yes," he replied, bemused by her question.

"Doesn't it bloody  _hurt_?" It was a genuine question.

Lukha and Khadgar exchanged glances then burst out laughing. Sarah's astonished face verified Khadgar's hopes. This was no demon before him. Their laughter subsided and he turned to Sarah. "You must be hungry by now," he said.

She realised it was coming on three days since she had last eaten. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Embarrassed, she clasped her hands to her belly. "Well, now you mention it..." Sarah grinned sheepishly.

With a fond smile, the Archmage gestured for the two women to walk ahead . "I think we will dine at The Golden Keg, a favourite of mine," he said.

"Ah, the Dwarven District. Haven't been there yet." Sarah chirruped.

"Then how do you...?" his brow furrowed.

"Oh, I will tell you all over a glass of wine or ale, whatever is your preference. Hope you are paying by the way." She winked, then seemed utterly embarrassed by her gesture. Clearing her throat, she carried on in a rush. "But, I warn you, you will not  _believe_  what I am about to tell you."

"You would be surprised by what I do not believe, Sarah." Khadgar replied with a smirk.

As they climbed the steps from the harbour, she relaxed in her new friends' company. The Archmage walked with a steady gait, hands clasped behind his back as he enquired how she was feeling. Conversation was simple enough – very much polite chit-chat. Until, Sarah came out with one of her show-stopper questions. "So, Khadgar, how old are  _you_ then?"

The Archmage drew to a halt, momentarily surprised to be asked such a thing. "Younger than I look," he smiled, a little coyly.

"You look quite different certainly compared to your image where I come from, and yes, younger I would say." Sarah said. "The hair is about the same, and the raven thingy – well you do that in the game also, but  _bloody hell!_  Who would have thought this would all be so close to Warcraft…" Spinning round, arms open, she hadn't realised that both Khadgar and Lukha had stopped walking. She was a good twenty feet ahead when she'd turned round to see them standing staring at her, their faces holding bewildered expressions. She ran back to them. "Thought you said I would be surprised by what you  _do not_  believe," she quipped, looking directly at the silver-haired Archmage. "I warned you, Khadgar."

* * *

The two Azerothians listened intently to Sarah's story. She skimmed lightly over her failed marriage and subsequent hermit-like lifestyle, mentioning just enough to explain how she became engrossed in a game called World of Warcraft. She explained the different expansions, the quest lines, the races, some of her adventures in Kalimdor, Hyjal, Deepholm, Northrend, Pandaria and Draenor.

She couldn't help but mention Illidan Stormrage, of course, and how she couldn't wait to meet him in-game. She guffawed and said she wouldn't mind meeting him in the flesh neither. The steel eyes regarded her silently, moving away only as he took a sip of wine then requested more from Myrla, the barmaid. Sarah quickly changed the subject, suspecting the Archmage had not approved of her over-enthusiastic fawning over the Betrayer.

Lukha oohed and ahhed as Sarah mentioned Yrel and Prophet Velen; two very important and influential draeneis albeit from a different timeline to the young draenei who sat across from her. It was not hard to work out that the two had been prominent historical figures for the race. Khadgar's expression remained impassive during that part of the discussion, although Sarah thought she saw a flicker of perhaps fond memories cross his face. She spoke avidly about quests to build garrisons and acquire followers.

Finally she described what she remembered of the night she was driving home, before waking up in Stormwind. It was dark by the time she finished talking.

Draining her fifth mug of Dwarven ale, she grinned a little lop-sidedly, at the four faces in front of her. She blinked - slowly. Actually, there were six now - three Lukhas and three Khadgars.

"S -sho," she hiccupped and belched. Her hand wandered up to her mouth but missed its target and flapped about in mid-air. She nibbled her bottom lip before an attack of giggles hit her. "Shorry! Try again Sha- sharah," she said to herself. Another hiccup. "Believe me now, Ars- arsh…erm… _Arch_ m –idge? Khad...? Oh my!" The last thing she remembered was the wooden table coming up to meet her face.


	5. REVELATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some bizarre reason this chapter had "vanished". Please accept my apologies for any confusion which must have arisen in the flow of the story.

 

* * *

 

When she woke, she was in plush surroundings, very unlike where she had woken the previous morning. Her head was surprisingly clear, although she flinched as she touched her forehead. Was that a new bruise? "Arrgh!" she mumbled to herself.

"She's awake!" Lukha's unmistakable accented voice echoed round the bed chamber. She looked towards the door as Khadgar entered. His face was serious, deadly serious and he looked tired, as if he hadn't slept all night.

"Get dressed. Now!" he said curtly, then exited the room as quickly as he had entered. Sarah cringed. What had happened last night that made him so brusque with her? Had she offended him? Or anyone?

Lukha laid out a robe of midnight blue silk. "Put this on Sarah," she said. Her voice was shaking. She busied herself placing fresh undergarments and shoes next to the dress.

"Where are my own clothes? And why are you both so... _odd_ with me today?" Sarah dragged herself out of the bed. Once upright she didn’t feel quite so good anymore.

"Your own clothes are covered in drunken vomit ..." Lukha said as if it was of no consequence. Sarah made a face, utterly ashamed at that bit of information. How humiliating. Maybe that was what had made Khadgar so short with her. It was hardly lady-like behaviour.

Lukha continued, "... and we are... _odd,_  as you put it, because what you told us last night is  _terrifying -_ if it is true."

The draenei took Sarah’s arm and led her through to a washroom adjoining the elaborate bedchamber. There next to a wash-hand basin were some toiletries; soap, facecloth, a tube of what appeared to be toothpaste and toothbrush next to it. A bottle of scented water accompanied them. “I’m not using someone else’s toothbrush,” she protested, a sneer tracing her lips at the mere thought.

“Everything is new,” Lukha retorted. “Khadgar conjured them all for you.”

“Oh!” Sarah said, taken aback at the Archmage’s thoughtfulness. She opened the scented water and sniffed the fragrance. She smiled. “What is this?” she enquired of her appointed nursemaid.

Lukha took the bottle from Sarah’s hand and studied it. Her eyes widened. Then she handed it back. “Honeysuckle and wild lotus,” she replied. “It is a most favoured scent among noble women and … “ Her brow furrowed as she tried to search for the right words. “Those of affluence.”

Sarah was speechless. The Archmage’s grumpy mood was in vast contrast to these kind offerings. Lukha moved in front of her and filled the basin with water. “Now, freshen up and then I will help you dress.”

Sarah nodded and the young draenei left, quietly closing the door. Turning to look at her reflection in the wall mounted mirror, Sarah took a moment to reflect. She must have been terribly drunk last night, for she could not recall much of the evening at all. She certainly could not remember throwing up. She slumped, grabbing the edges of the wash-hand basin for support. How utterly embarrassing. Naming almost every deity she could think of, including Elune, she prayed she had not puked over the Archmage himself. Nor Lukha for that matter.

Raising her head again, she looked at the woman staring back from the mirror. Dishevelled didn’t even come close. One thing that was encouraging about this morning though, was that she was still in Stormwind. Her dream, if that’s what it was, still had her within its grip. Lukha’s words ran across her train of thought. What had she said last night that had both Khadgar and Lukha so agitated, she wondered. She knew she had begun by telling her then captivated audience about the general intricacies of technology in her world and of the computer devices available. Knowing that Khadgar was a learned man at least, she enthused about the wealth of knowledge on the internet, the many sources of information available. He had seemed suitably impressed. 

When she then explained how she knew about Azeroth however, both Khadgar and Lukha were dumbstruck. She remembered telling them how she had various characters, all different classes and levels. She mentioned questing, dungeons, raids and what she and her friends preferred in the game. Details after her third mug of ale however, became a bit blurred until she simply could not remember at all what she had divulged. With a long drawn out sigh, she started to make herself respectable.

She emerged from the wash room some twenty minutes later. Lukha told her they had to hurry and came forward with a corset and cami-knickers. Sarah’s eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding!” She said shaking her head at the undergarments.

Lukha expression changed. She found Sarah's reaction disrespectful. “All ladies wear such finery,” she said haughtily.

“Well, in case it has escaped your notice, I am no lady! And I will not wear those pieces of torture! Where are my own knickers and bra?”

“If you refer to those pitiful pieces of fabric you were wearing on arrival and yesterday, then they are being laundered …  _again_!”

Sarah blinked, momentarily flummoxed. “Drunken vomit?” she enquired, her voice more of a whisper now.

Lukha merely nodded and threw the cami-knickers for Sarah to put on. She duly did. The draenei then laced her into the corset. Sarah oofed as the garment became restrictive. “Does it have to be so tight?” she whined.

Lukha tugged the ties. “Yes, otherwise it will fall off, and how much more embarrassing would that be, Sarah Metcalfe?”

Sarah had to concede. She had humiliated herself enough without her clothing or lack of, adding to her shame.

“I think Khadgar has made excellent choices for your attire.” Lukha remarked.

Sarah spun round. “What?  _He_  chose all this?”

“Yes,” Lukha replied turning Sarah back as she finished fitting the corset. “Although I helped, a little.”

Next she helped Sarah step into the petticoats and secured them with ties at the waist. "So, what did I all say last night that has you both so upset with me?" She truly hoped she had at least kept a civil tongue in her head.

Lukha helped Sarah slide the dress over her head. Once it was safely over and the skirts all in soft folds, she fastened the small buttons up the side. She led her to a padded stool in front of a dressing table, sat her down and proceeded brushing her hair.  She looked at Sarah’s reflection. Finally, she answered her. "You explained where you came from and how you know so much about Azeroth. You spoke of the Betrayer,  _at length_  I may add…” She raised an eyebrow at her. “And you spoke of the Burning Legion," she concluded in a hushed voice.

"Did I?” Inwardly she cringed. She seriously hoped she had not fangirled to the extreme. “OK. So?" How much she had revealed about the latest patch, she really had no idea.

Lukha tied her hair back and piled it on her head, fastening it with decorative clips. "So now, King Varian has demanded an audience with you."

Sarah grunted and hung her head. _Note to self: Keep off the Dwarven Ale next time._

An impatient sounding knock came to the door. “Is she ready yet?” Khadgar’s voice sounded. Lukha answered  _yes_.

“Can’t he ask  _me_ if I’m ready or not?” Sarah said to Lukha, annoyed by the Archmage’s indirectness.

“Like you are asking  _me_  now, do you mean?” the draenei intoned, standing, hands on hips staring down at her.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but then decided not to bother. The girl was much sharper and smarter than she had given her credit for. She glanced at Lukha in the mirror. It was then she noted the smirk playing on the draenei’s lips. She dared a smile and Lukha responded in kind.

“Come, he waits impatiently,” Lukha said.

“The king?” Sarah asked, plunging her phone down the front of her bodice. She shrugged as Lukha watched her doing it, an incredulous expression written on the draenei’s face.

“I meant Khadgar. But yes, King Varian too.” Lukha replied.

The Archmage stood, facing the stretch of hall in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. Lukha could tell by the way his fingers wiggled against his palm, he was impatient. He turned on hearing the draenei cough lightly. “Well, about ti…” He stopped as he caught sight of Sarah behind Lukha. The draenei lowered her head to disguise a knowing smile. “You look…most presentable, Sarah Metcalfe,” Khadgar said as she neared him.

Still uncertain of his mood for all his words were loosely complimentary she noted his brow knitted on seeing her. She afforded him a small smile. “Thank you – I think.”

Lukha made a strange little sound which both of them heard but neither made comment.

Khadgar cleared his throat. “Shall we then?” he gestured for the women to follow.

The Archmage walked purposefully ahead. They were flanked by Stormwind guards. Sarah felt it was strangely like a march to her execution.

Her eyes widened as they entered the main chamber. Pillars rose tall and proud, each adorned with the King's crest of royal blue with a Lion's head emblazoned in gold at their centre. The floor was polished stone which glimmered as she crossed over it, her steps echoing lightly. A few influential denizens of Stormwind, Ironforge and Darnassus stood near the centre, whilst others remained at a distance in the various doorways that bled into the chamber. She noted some high ranking Earthen Ring, Kirin Tor, Silverwing Sentinels, Stormpike Guard amongst those in attendance. Suddenly, this did not feel so game-like. This seemed all too real – and all rather Arthurian. Her bravado and cockiness which she displayed in Warcraft simply had no place here. She felt all eyes were upon her; all judging and unyielding.

Khadgar stepped forward and halted just short of the throne. He bowed and spoke softly to the King, who was obscured from Sarah's view at that point. She gathered, or rather  _hoped_ , that Khadgar was asking his old friend to go easy on the outsider. Then again, from her brief encounter with the Archmage this morning, she was uncertain if even  _he_  was on her side any more. Low murmurs rippled around her.

Khadgar stepped to one side and stood next to the draenei she recognised from the Slaughtered Lamb. The paladin Ocel looked briefly in her direction, then smiled warmly at Lukha, who stood protectively next to her. He whispered something to Khadgar. The Archmage looked briefly in Sarah’s direction then nodded in response to Ocel. It was not an encouraging sign, Sarah thought.

The King's voice boomed, startling her from her reverie. "Step forward, Sarah Metcalfe."

Her heart almost exploded. Her mouth was dry and an irrational fear of being unable to speak enveloped her. She clenched her fists, driving her nails into her soft fleshy palms, a nervous habit from days gone by. Tentatively, she moved towards the King, keeping her eyes cast down respectfully. Khadgar's soft touch on her arm told her that was far enough. She could not bring herself to look at him - she still had the dregs of her drunken humiliation hanging over. She doubted a man of his stature had much time for such cheap behaviour.

"You can raise your head, Sarah Metcalfe," the King said. It was not so much of an invitation, as a command. She did as he bade and stared straight ahead, eyes wide, mouth still dry.

King Varian Wrynn was an imposing figure, without question. He was the embodiment of strength, power, honour. He wore his hair in its signature ponytail, which highlighted the deep scar running from one temple to the other and made his otherwise strong and handsome face somewhat menacing. His blue eyes held her with quiet regard, but she could feel, let alone see the authority which lay within them.

She managed a nervous curtsey. She repeated the gesture to Prince Anduin who stood to the King's right, even though she was unsure if it was protocol.

Quite unexpectedly, and to her further embarrassment, tears sprang to her eyes; a rogue droplet traced her cheek. She knew what happened to this regal man, if indeed the game accurately prophesised events here in Azeroth. Her knowledge of what was soon to pass tore at her heart.  _Who am I kidding?_  She chastised herself inwardly.  _This isn’t real_! But, the outcome of the Broken Shore still upset her. It did not go unnoticed.

"Why do you cry?" King Varian asked, not altogether unkindly, but demanding a response. He had inched forward on his throne.

She swallowed before she attempting to answer and cleared her throat. Her voice, although quiet, carried adequately due to the acoustics of the room. "Because, Your Majesty, I have some knowledge of what has happened here in Azeroth. And ..." Her voice dwindled to a whisper.

"And?" he encouraged. His eyes were intense, never releasing her gaze.

"And what is still to come." She managed nervously.

The audience stirred. She heard the clink of armour and the rustling of many expensive fabrics as the attendees milled nearby.

"Tell us what you told Khadgar last night," the King demanded.

Due to a way too much alcohol the night before, she wasn't a hundred percent sure of exactly  _how much_  she had divulged, but going by the fact she had been summoned by the King of Stormwind, she could safely bet it was damn near everything to date; in the gaming version anyhow. Lukha had at least forewarned her of some of the things she had discussed. She dared a glance at Khadgar hoping for an indication of exactly what the King wanted to hear.  _Help_ , she mouthed.

_Burning Legion_ , he mouthed back, affording a small smile of reassurance.

She nodded and taking a deep breath, faced the King once more. "I take it the Archmage has informed you that I am not from here?" she began, the tremor in her voice not having lessened any. A ripple of laughter spread throughout parts of the room.

Varian Wrynn maintained a steady gaze, his chin resting on his fist. She thought she noted the tiniest of smirks play at the corner of his mouth. Was it ridicule? Humour? Impatience? She could not tell. "That much, was obvious, Sarah Metcalfe." Murmurs nearby echoed his words. "Even to me." His smirk widened slightly. Soft laughter rippled through the onlookers.

"Of course," she replied, feeling foolish. Her palms began to sting. She glanced at them quickly. They were bleeding! She'd dug her nails in too hard again.  _It's been a long time since I've done that_ , she thought. Concealing her hands behind her skirts, she took a deep breath. There was little point avoiding the issue, but she would need to proceed with due care. Certain details she did not even know if she could utter the details. "The Burning Legion has returned, Your Majesty. An alternate Gul'dan has successfully opened the portal at Sargeras' Tomb on The Broken Isles granting the Legion access to Azeroth."

A mixed reaction rose from those nearby. Some protested saying there was no substantial proof, whilst others voiced their belief of this news, adamant that sightings of demons had been reported. The King held up his hand to silence them. This much he had known. He had already been informed of this following Khadgar's mission to The Broken Isles, before Sarah had even regained consciousness. Once the din died down, the King looked back at Sarah. Knowing that the Archmage had not confided his experience in The Broken Isles to her, he posed the question. "The Tomb is well sealed though, Sarah. Wards and locks devised from ancient rituals protect the entrance, let alone the inside of the Tomb with its complexity of safeguards. How would it be possible for Gul'dan to penetrate the tomb?"

"Yes, the tomb  _was_  well guarded" she agreed, a shade more confidently, "but Gul'dan is being led by Kil'jaeden, and where once the orc warlock failed on Draenor,” she chanced a glance at Khadgar. His steel eyes remained facing the king. She continued. “He did not fail this time. He is much stronger now, Your Majesty. And the sheer magnitude of the invasion will be unlike anything Azeroth has witnessed before."

Murmurs resonated throughout the room once more. The King studied this strange woman. She was quite eloquent in her delivery, once she shed the nerves. She was also accurate, going by Khadgar's own account of things when he'd confronted the orc wizard. Varian leaned forward on his throne. "And how have you come by this information, Sarah Metcalfe?

She felt dread. In her over-active imagination, she envisioned a giant venus fly-trap sprout around her and snap shut, chomping its way through her entire being. This was the part where they would either be amazed - or consider her mad. Again, she glanced at Khadgar. He held her gaze now, his steel eyes giving nothing away. She felt utterly alone.  _Note to self: once I get home, socialise again - get out more!_

"Where I come from," she started, trying to keep the increasing quiver from her voice, "we .... I mean  _some_...of my people play a game." She allowed her eyes to scan those nearest the King, watching for their reactions. They were as stoic as their NPC's on her computer screen. Others behind and to either side of her however, already mocked her.  _Game_?  _We are supposed to believe that a game predicts our future?_  She heard some say.  _Why are we wasting time listening to her?!_

"It is called World of Warcraft," she pressed on. "The game revolves around..." deep breath, "...around Azeroth and  _everyone here_." She spread out her hands, gesturing all those present.

Shouts of  _Impossible! Insult_!  _Treason_! (Treason? she winced.)  _Fool_! Even  _Demon_ crept in and the voices just seemed to get more vehement with each passing second. She stumbled back, clearly stunned at the severity of their reaction. Their anger and indignation seemed very real indeed. This was turning unpleasant. She looked desperately to Khadgar, fear written clearly in her eyes. In a moment, he was at her side, one arm around her waist and the other holding his staff, which he promptly slammed its base to the floor. The noise was deafening and a ripple of azure spread from its base to the outer walls of the chamber. The room instantly quietened.

"Give the girl a chance to explain!" he spoke slowly and deliberately. The crowd shuffled, but awarded her their undivided attention. Khadgar did not move from her side. The feel of his hand on her waist was comforting. She looked up at him, grateful. "Tell it like you did last night Sarah," he whispered, inclining his head to her.

"But I was so drunk I can't  _remember_  half of what I said," she breathed back.

"Focus!" His hand gently applied pressure to her waist.

Subconsciously, she put her arm around the Archmage's back, her fingers curling around the fabric of his robe. A moment or two passed, as she bolstered herself, then she stated her case. "You are all rather quick to mock and ridicule me. Yet, here, amongst your very numbers, stands a race that hailed from a different planet...the draenei."

It was quite a potent opening and it grabbed everyone’s attention. She exhaled slowly, quietly, her lips pouting and cheeks puffing out a little. She continued. "A noble race, they came with knowledge and technology that outshone even your own. And here they are ...  _welcomed_ , living beside you, treated as equals. They fight with you for the greater cause. For Azeroth."

The mood in the chamber had shifted. They were listening now, without judgement this time. She seemed to have placated them a little. She stepped away from Khadgar and found herself moving around the room in front of the gathering. " _My_  people, come from even further afield than the draenei. We too have technology, science and skills that would render you  _all_  speechless, have you enraptured...maybe even terrified!" A few gasps could be heard. This fed her courage, and before long she was swept up in the fantasy of it all again.

"Do not disparage me simply because I am different, from another universe, or time. I am a woman who enjoys gaming. That is how I travel, if you will, to lands such as yours. That is how I meet and interact with people like you. And in my world, I can see you all ...  _in a machine_  ... where nothing is impossible."

All eyes were upon her. She carefully continued. "You do not actually exist in my world, as you do here. Where I come from, you have been manufactured so-to-speak, through the imagination and creativity of men and women who are highly skilled in art, design, technology and sound. I see you on devices similar to this..." she pulled out her phone from her bodice and switched it on. The act caused a few raised eyebrows, including the Archmage. She noted the Battery Low warning, but reckoned it had enough juice to show them some pictures and play some music. A few bystanders gathered around to see what she held. Expressions of awe spilled from their open mouths. She switched off her phone before it gave up the fight, and therefore making her lose hers.

"In World of Warcraft, I, and approximately 10 million of my people, have travelled all over your continents; Kalimdor, Eastern Kingdoms, Northrend, Pandaria and Draenor and more recently, The Broken Isles. We have eaten and drank with the best of you. Ran errands for you of utmost importance as well as just for fun. We have fought beside your armies; dwarves, night elves, draenei and worgen as well as human. We have tended your wounded and escorted you to safety."

_Now might be a good time to stop_ , she told herself. But, she was on a roll, she was starting to enjoy this again. Turning to the King she continued enthusiastically. "I have walked with  _you_ , King Varian," The King's eyes widened. "I have fought the horde with you on the beaches of Pandaria, west of The Incursion, aiding Shieldwall." She turned her attention to his right. "I have helped  _you_ , Prince Anduin, find and explore the Vale where we have a base called the Shrine of the Seven Stars." The prince smiled warmly. " And as for you, Khadgar," she moved back to the Archmage, speaking his name softly, her eyes warm as she looked towards the man who had protected her since her arrival. "I stormed the Dark Portal with you, fought faithfully at your side, and built my garrison with your aid, in Shadowmoon Valley on Draenor."

She could tell by his expression, that had  _not_  been revealed the night before. His lips parted momentarily, then closed again before he looked straight ahead at the King.

Sarah smiled wistfully and turned to face the crowd again. "Sadly however, I am not as brave as the characters I develop in the game. I am as you see me here, an ordinary woman of no particular import, who has not the first clue of how she arrived here. I know not whether this is all real, or simply in my head. But, I  _do know_ , through Warcraft anyhow, I am as passionate about this land and its peoples as you are. I may not know you personally, but I love  _everything_  about this world and I want to be part of it."

Quiet chatter buzzed in pockets of the audience. King Varian beckoned Khadgar and his fellow advisors who stood close by. He glanced in her direction from time to time as they all whispered intently. Was this where they were going to carry her off and throw her in the stockade, she wondered. Their lengthening debate began to unsettle her again.

Trying to keep the rising panic in her chest at bay, she casually glanced around the room. The unexpected sight of Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwind caused her to freeze.  _Ok correction_ , she noted,  _I don't love you_ all! A tight knot in her belly formed instantly. They had stood almost out of her line of view. The urge was too strong to ignore, and even though she suspected what she was about to reveal could have them all baying for blood again, she could not let this go unsaid. Her mood darkened and she crossed to where they stood.

Khadgar turned at that moment and caught sight of her moving towards Malfurion and Tyrande. He shifted uneasily as he observed the change in her mood. She had voiced her opinion about the Stormrage brothers last night and how she felt the other twin, known as the Betrayer, had been wrongly judged. He had, she said, an integral role to play in the Burning Legion's plans for the invasion of Azeroth. The intensity with which she fixated on the druid and the priestess was not going to go well he feared. He turned to the King. Varian conveyed a look which ordered him to  _bide your time_.

There was purpose in her voice as Sarah spoke. "There is a saying in my world and perhaps it is the same here, it is this ...  _keep your friends close, but your enemies closer still_." Her head tilted as she scrutinized the beautiful night elf and her lover. They stared back, indifferently.

"I tell you now, Gul'dan's first task for the Legion's masters ... is to find and awaken Illidan."

Tyrande flinched. Guards moved to surround her, but a firm hand signal from King Varian and they stepped back in line.

Sarah carried on, oblivious of the King's fixed stare. "You have  _all_  been guilty of judging a book by its cover. All you could see of Illidan was his demonic form, but not once did you stop to think of what he suffered. And suffer by god, or Elune, or  _whoever_ , he did! For  _you_!!" She stabbed an accusatory finger at Tryande. Then she spun and faced everyone in the room. "For  _all_  of you! Illidan is  _not_  the Betrayer...he is the  _Betrayed_!"

The crowd grew angry again, and Malfurion bristled, his eyes burning, but Sarah was not done. "You will see! His Illidari will be released and they will fight fiercely in  _his_ name. And once again, it will be to save  _all of you!_ "

At that, the King signalled to Khadgar. Swiftly, the Archmage created a portal and grabbing Sarah by the waist he pulled her through. The portal snapped shut behind them.


	6. KHADGAR'S DILEMMA

Her head spun with the sudden extraction from the throne room. Her eyes were wide and she wobbled on the spot, nausea building. The Archmage gripped her upper arms, holding her steady. "You will be alright," he said flatly. "First time through a portal I take it?"

She took a moment to answer. "Well, unless it accounts for how I arrived in Azeroth, I – I guess so."

"Hmm," he muttered. He waited just long enough to establish she wasn't going to collapse then abruptly released her, leaving her to steady herself while he moved through to another room.

The light-headedness and nausea abated soon after. Her breathing still a little heavy, she looked up and took in her surroundings. She found herself in a large spacious room with a violet hue to the stone walls. It was quite refined with its soft furnishings of purples, blues and greens. Sideboards and tables were of a golden grained wood, all dusted and polished. Few ornaments were present other than a couple of large vases filled with beautifully scented flowers which she inhaled deeply. Paintings of beautiful landscapes graced the walls and ornate light fittings were positioned in between. This was indeed a tasteful and rather lavish abode. She ventured across the room to investigate more. Voiles in keeping with the colour scheme of the upholstery, rippled softly on a light breeze from the open glass bay doors that led to the balcony. The stone balustrades curved gently round the exterior of the room supporting a low wall overlooking the streets and gardens below. It all had a vaguely familiar feel about it but before she could work it out, Khadgar strode towards her, two goblets in hand. He thrust one in front of her, "Drink," he said simply.

She expected it to be just water considering her mammoth intake of Dwarven Ale the night before. Looking into the goblet she discovered it was a red wine.  _This could be asking for trouble_ , she thought. She could still feel the dregs of last night's consumption flowing through her veins.

She raised it to her lips but stopped instantly. With a mixture of surprise and mild amusement, she watched as Khadgar downed the contents of his goblet in one smooth motion. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of his mouth. His eyes were ablaze. He looked almost ... dangerous. Inwardly she withdrew and took a sip of wine, more for courage than anything else. She was unsure what to make of him right now.

Studying him over the rim of her goblet, she searched her mind for snippets of lore about the man. Medivh ... Sargeras ... Karazhan ... a curse. Yes. She recalled now. His battle with the demon-possessed Guardian, Medivh had aged him prematurely, robbing him of his youthful features and physique at the tender age of seventeen. Yet, this man in front of her was what, in his mid to late forties? That would be about his correct age, she deduced. It was rumoured that he had regenerated over time, but whether it was due to Medivh's influence waning after his demise or some form of regenerative magic used, was never disclosed nor authenticated. Yet, here he stood, noticeably younger than he appeared in various World of Warcraft patches and books. And definitely more charismatic.

Comparing him to the game version, she noted his hair appeared less dull grey, more peppered perhaps, although in the light it looked silvery, and his face was much thinner. The shape of his jaw was strong and square, with cheekbones set high, an angular almost noble nose and his mouth set tightly, lips still moist from the wine. He was actually quite a handsome man and judging by the way he moved, she reckoned he must be fairly athletic underneath his robes and tunic.

She cast her eyes to the floor as a warm flush started to creep over her. He fit her "type", rather well too. This was  _most_ unexpected. The man was obviously annoyed with her, quite why she had not yet deduced, but she would no doubt find out very soon. She took a more generous sip of her wine.

She dared to glance up. Judging by his expression, he wanted to say something, but seemed unable to form the words. His brow furrowed, giving the impression he was frustrated by this whole incident.  _What have I done to infuriate him this much?_  She wondered. Nerves were starting to form and she trembled slightly as she took yet another gulp of the red vintage. And  _then_  the effects of the beverage kicked in. "I'll start then, will I?" she said, in an attempt to break the tension.

Khadgar frowned, but remained silent. His eyes were fierce. She had truly not intended to anger him and certainly not to this degree. She inched back a step. "Did I puke on you?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at his empty goblet then back at her. "Did you  _what_?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Was I sick over you? Last night, after the inn?" It was humiliating even having to ask.

A look of understanding crossed his face and the barest of twitches toyed at the corner of his mouth. "No."

"One down then," she muttered with slight relief. "So what  _have_  I done to piss you off?"

He clapped his hand over his mouth and dragged it down to his chin. His eyes twinkled. "One moment," he said, holding up his forefinger and disappearing back into the other room.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. She really had to rein in her profanity. But, alcohol, nerves, pain and anger always unleashed the foul tongue in her.

He emerged seconds later replenishing his goblet. He placed the wine bottle on the table next to where they stood. He seemed hesitant in facing her again, but he did; his face once more stern.

"In answer to your … eloquent question," he began, watching her closely as she hung her head and sighed heavily. "You over-stepped the mark in the king's presence."

Her head shot up. "You instructed me to repeat what I told you last night!" she said defensively.

"Yes, but…"

"And I  _warned_  you, Khadgar, did I not, that I couldn't remember exactly what I had said?" She actually had no idea where she was going with this, she just wanted to alleviate the uneasy atmosphere by trying to talk her way out of it.

"Yes, but…" he replied, agitated.

"So what the hell are you mad at me for?"

"If you would allow me to…" His mouth tightened.

"Just spit it out why don't you! Come on, be a man!" Her face went bright red and her eyes bulged. She could not believe she was using such a sarcastic tone, to the Archmage, no less.

"You played a dangerous game back there!" His voice boomed. She shrank back, noticeably trembling. Her reaction dispersed his annoyance. With a deep sigh, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and his voice adopted a calmer tone. "You practically accused Tyrande and Malfurion for Illidan's confinement. You do realise exactly who you were dealing with,  _don't_  you?" His steel eyes searched hers for acknowledgement.

She blinked. He thought she was wrong for stating how she felt? For voicing what she knew? "Of course I do!" she replied, thunderstruck by his question. Her courage suddenly flowed back into her. "Were they likely to strike me down in the King's court? For  _what_? Having an  _opinion_?" She waited to see if he would respond.

Her indignation surprised him. "No, but nonetheless, Sarah, there are certain protocols that need adhered to..."

"Oh bull _shit_!" She drank heartily from her goblet.

"Bull  _what_?" he gaped at her further use of profanity. Secretly, he found it more amusing than offensive although he was not used to women using such language.

Sarah instantly found his shocked expression hilarious and had to stifle a grin as she went on to enforce her beliefs. "Khadgar, Illidan is such a tortured and misunderstood soul. His methods were unorthodox, and yes, he probably  _was_  seduced by the power on offer to him." Holding her goblet forward she pointed her forefinger at him. "But,  _do not_  deny, that  _all of you,_  have at some point in time, fought the desire for more power when it was opportune..." she waited a beat before continuing.

The Archmage lowered his head, as if in confession to such a charge. Her confidence then came back tenfold. Leaning slightly closer to him, she guffawed. "Ah ha! I knew it!"

His eyes glanced up at her, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. She pulled back instantly very aware of his closeness and took another sip of wine before continuing. "But, the point is, he did it for  _us_!" She shook her head. "No. That's not right. I... I mean...for  _you ._.." she flailed her hand in mid air, "... for  _Azeroth_! Bloody hell, you  _know_  what I mean!"

She drained her goblet. She was disappointed to see it was now empty.  _Boy, this is really potent stuff,_ she thought, swaying a little. Last night's intake had just been replenished. Alcohol had a dreadful side effect on her, it made her mouth forget to stay shut. " _And_  as for his unrequited love for Tyrande..." she went on, much to the Archmage's rising amusement. "...he'd do anything she would ask of him, did you know that? A _nything!_ " She stared longingly at her empty goblet. The tale of Illidan's unrequited love for Tyrande had always hit her hard. A lone tear rolled to her chin. "Tragically romantic, don't you think?"

Khadgar's demeanour changed. His eyes narrowed and his mouth broke into a slight sneer of incredulity. "You harbour feelings for...  _Illidan_?"

His comment had a subtle sobering effect on her. Was he angry at her siding with Illidan now? Repulsed that she cared about the demon hunter and his story? She couldn't read Khadgar at all. "No! Not in  _that_ way," she breathed.  _Ok, maybe a little_ , she thought, but kept that to herself. "It's his love for Tyrande that moves me."

Khadgar looked justifiably mystified. His expression made her back up a step or two. "Are any of you even  _aware_ of their story?" The Archmage resumed an impassive expression. "No, I suppose you're not, right enough," she realised. "You will only be aware of the Battle of the Ancients. And as it's Illidan's love story, kind of, it won't have been logged anywhere in Azeroth." She paused, then another question suddenly seemed important. "By the way, the elves  _do_ live a lot longer than humans don't they, or is that just my people making up stories...?"

"They do live inordinately long lives, yes," he said nodding, his mouth betraying another hint of a grin.

"Well then, long story, very short ...the woman favoured his brother the druid, Malfurion. Still, Illidan loved her, tried to impress her with his magic. Fair enough, he drank from the skull of Gul'dan and it transformed him ... a bit extremely certainly, but it was so he could infiltrate the Burning Legion and destroy it from within. Mal and Tyr didn't buy that though. Tyrande recoiled at the very sight of his demonic form, with his leathery wings, cloven feet and horned head!" At that Sarah sighed deeply. "Hell! Has she even looked _closely_  at Malfurion lately? He's all feathers and fluff. And  _antlers_  for goodness sake!""

Silence.

For a moment.

Then Khadgar guffawed. Next, he laughed very loudly. She stared at him. Had she broken his stern and sombre mood? His laughter became infectious. She joined him in his mirth and dared to shake her empty goblet at him. "Any more of this?"

Still laughing, he beckoned. "Come," he gestured for her to sit. "There is more, though it seems to make you rather vocal." He omitted a loud burst of laughter again.

Now, Sarah was more relaxed. "Yes," she admitted. "Just  _one_ more though. Where are we anyway?" She still tried to register where they might be.

"Dalaran," he replied, pouring the wine. He saw her nodding with a smile as he handed her the goblet. "These are my quarters." His steel eyes watched her as she absorbed this information. She quickly sipped from her replenished goblet. It was then he noticed her hands. "You're bleeding!"

She glanced down. She had forgotten about her bad habit. "Oh, it's nothing and it's all dried now. It was just nerves, being in front of the King and all..." True, no permanent damage was done, but they did need tended to. He went to fetch a bowl of water, some healing balm and a cloth.

She watched silently as he bathed her palms and applied the healing ointment. His touch was gentle, tender even. Her breath hitched unexpectedly. A pleasant tingling sensation prickled the nape of her neck and spread out down her back. Inadvertently, a small giggle escaped her and she gently withdrew her hands from his, then shifted back on the cushions. She felt a little foolish, no doubt there had been nothing implied in his tending her bloodied hands, but she was nonetheless left feeling a little giddy. And there was no telling if it was the effect of merely the wine, or the man sitting in front of her that made her feel so. There was an awkward silence. Wordlessly, he put away the bowl, and the balm.

"Your wine," he offered her the goblet again, before moving to the balcony where he watched over the city below. He leaned against the wall, lifting his goblet to his lips, seemingly deep in thought.

She watched him quietly as she sipped her wine. Even through her slightly fuzzy viewpoint, Khadgar appeared tragically alone. A man who bore the unenviable burden of defending Azeroth above all else, was bound to have a lonely existence. She was struck by his charismatic personna again and she smiled. There was also no denying his touch had caused a reaction deep within her: who was she kidding, after all. Did he think of  _her_  in that way? Was she  _his_ type?  _Oh shut up, why don't you!_  She told herself.  _Your mouth has already run away with you and now your thoughts are joining in your deplorable behaviour._  But her brain kept coming up with scenarios and fantasies.

She then thought perhaps an Archmage would be celibate, prohibited to harbour carnal desires or even remotely entertain such thoughts.  _That's Guardians_ , she corrected herself. Ah yes, Aegwynn. She failed that challenge, dismally, having given birth to Medivh; Khadgar's then future mentor, no less. And, like mother like son, Medivh had a dalliance that produced offspring also.  _Seemed they were all at it_ , she mused.

Her mood suddenly slumped.  _The game can't have everything perfectly mirrored, though surely_. Maybe Khadgar had someone in his life already? Was this their home? Was she intruding? "Is there a... _Mrs_ Khadgar?" There it was out before she could stop it. She also felt utterly stupid referring to his possible partner in that manner, but she knew no other name.  _Has he even got a surname_? she wondered.

He turned to look at her, his steel eyes narrowed, watching her intently. He pushed himself away from the balcony wall and walked towards her. She placed her goblet on the small table in front of her and rose, trying to steady herself as the wine's effect steadily intensified. Breathing deeply, she stood facing him, searching his face for confirmation of either her hopes; or her fears. The steel orbs, ablaze just moments earlier, had all but simmered to their usual, impartial grey.  _Oh god! I've offended him._  She felt dismay at her tactlessness.

"I must see to some business. Please, make yourself at home. There is plenty food and wine, and the bed chamber," he indicated with a wave of his right hand, "is through there, should you need to rest. You will not be disturbed." He headed for the door.

Sarah wanted the world to open and swallow her. Why did she never learn? In with both feet, every time. She reached down to pick up her wine. The Archmage halted at the door and turned to face her one more time. His eyes met hers in a steady gaze. "And in answer to your question... no, there is not."

His response did not ease her quandary. Instantly, she felt very foolish. Embarrassment flooded her entire being.  _You stupid, stupid woman_ , she chided inwardly. She could not look at him any longer. Turning away, she moved towards the balcony. "Thank you for your generosity," she whispered over her shoulder, then she heard the door close.

* * *

Once outside, Khadgar took a moment to regain some composure. He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. These emotions! Oh, how they liked to play havoc with him. What had just passed between himself and Sarah Metcalfe had been ... awkward, to say the least. What a dilemma! He grit his teeth.

He had come so close to making an utter fool of himself. Not the first he had been tempted to act on impulse, but he did not want to live with regret. Again. That's why he'd moved across the room away from her, that and the fact she had pulled away from  _him_ when he tended her wounds _._  Had he made her uncomfortable? He hoped not.

Truth was however, he had no time for such ... complications, these days. The threat of the Burning Legion was very real indeed and he could not afford such distractions.  _So_ tempting, though, he thought. He bit down hard on his knuckles, closing his eyes to try redirect some inner focus.

Still, he could not help but grin. With her blazé approach, peppered, it seemed, with some endearing insecurities, she was like a breath of fresh air. He sensed good humour behind a lot of her bravado. And, even though she had ended up a little tipsy, yet  _again_ , and used some very unladylike language, he found her utterly enchanting. There was definitely something most alluring about this alien woman. His mood shifted slightly _._ She had enquired if he had a wife? Once ... well,  _almost_ , but that was many years ago and a distant memory now.  _Mrs Khadgar,_  though! It made him smile.

He took a deep breath. This was not the type of behaviour anyone expected of him, however. To the people of Azeroth, he was a strong, intelligent man with excellent strategy, insight, dedication to his work and always focusing on the protection of their beloved world and her peoples. He had practically been de-humanised over the years in other's eyes, and he had grown to accept that. In a way it made life simpler. Although intolerably lonely on occasion too.

"Khadgar! Good afternoon!" called a Dalaran citizen, who passed by his location. Quickly, the Archmage straightened, nodding his head in greeting. The night elf hesitated, concerned. "Is everything alright, Archmage?"

"Yes, all is well," he lied in response, waving a dismissive hand. He could not allow people to see him like this. Weak. Distracted.

Absent-mindedly, he brushed down his robe, ran his fingers through his tousled hair and started towards the Violet Citadel. He was utterly oblivious to the hazel eyes watching him from his balcony, a mixture of irritation and profound embarrassment swimming within.


	7. ALONE

Night fall came and went, as did dawn, then noon. She had remained awake since watching him walk towards the Violet Citadel. What the hell needed doing all this time? He was coming back wasn't he?  _Wasn't_  he?

As the day moved on, painfully slow, she accepted the obvious. The Archmage was engaged in something which required his full attention. But logic did not help abate her irritation at having been left alone - and for so long. Adding her annoyance into the mix of having had no sleep, the continual dose of embarrassment lingering from earlier, and irresponsibly draining the wine he'd opened and four more bottles she'd found after ... well, she was pissed in more ways than one.  _How dare he dump me here! In his little batchelor pad!_ She finally passed out on the couch near the balcony window.

When she woke, some hours later, she was chilled from having no cover over her. It was light outside and by the sounds of it, or, to be more accurate, lack of, it was quite early. Her head was pounding, her stomach felt like it had been punched and kicked; such was the dull ache of way too much wine and no food. Common sense would have told her to eat, but then again, the trouble with common sense was it never was very common. She groaned.

Once she got her bearings, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Staggering a little she made her way through to the bed chamber. Empty. " _So,"_  she muttered, "he didn't bother coming back  _at all!"_ It didn't help when it registered this was the start of day two in Dalaran. If she didn't feel so ill, she would be furious, but that just took way too much effort for now.

A soft click from the other room grabbed her attention. She backed out of the bed chamber and peered round the edge of the wall. There, sitting in front of the main door was a basket, brimming with food and - god forbid - more wine. She was sure it had not been there when she'd moved through the room. She tried to shift quickly towards the door to see if she could catch whoever delivered it. Clumsily, her feet tangled in a throw from one of the chairs and she fell over. She met the floor with a dull thud and the throw landed in soft folds beside her.

Cursing, she managed to pull herself vertical again. She dumped the throw over the chair in a crumpled heap. Her stomach lurched.  _Oh no!_ She whined.  _Please don't be sick._  She stumbled through to a small washroom she'd noticed just off the bed chamber and sat for a while, until the horrid sensation lessened. The moment she straightened, her stomach lost the fight. After what felt like half an hour, she rose and splashed cold water over her face. Her reflection in the mirror above the wash-hand basin was less than flattering. "I pray to Elune that's just a crap mirror," she croaked before turning away from it, dispirited. At least her stomach felt better - a little.

Slowly, she returned to the living quarters and fetched the basket to the pantry. It would perhaps be wise to eat. At least having something substantial to lose if she was sick again would be better than just the acidic burn of bile and overnight wine.

The basket contained some bread, several cuts of spiced meats, fruit, cheese. Some preserve and pickle. There was also some kind of milk, she didn't want to think what it came from, but reckoned it would be perfectly palatable. A type of cereal - perhaps oats? Vegetables such as carrots, sweet potatoes and something that looked like runner beans. Wine, of course, which she deposited as far away from herself as possible. Well, she thought, all this food  _must_  mean he will be back soon at least.  _Surely_!

A sandwich with some of the meat and cheese was in order, and she even dared some of the milk. It was sweet, actually quite pleasant. The food did help, and she soon felt a little better, although a tad fragile still. Her temper however, was back on the boil. She was now absolutely furious with Khadgar. How on earth did they go from him being all protective, to suddenly ditching her on a floating fucking rock?

She recalled her moments of stupidity. She had thought maybe he had been attracted to her. How foolish was she? She cringed with embarrassment. Typical Sarah, always misinterpreting things. Would she ever stop being naive? Clinging to the hope that a man being nice meant he cared and just might be,  _The One_ was just becoming bothersome now. Even more laughable, _The One_  in this instance was constructed from multi-coloured pixels! She buried her head in her hands. Oh the shame!

She should have learned, after Pete. Her ambitious, workaholic, and as it turned out, vile husband. She had been eighteen, living in Edinburgh when they first met. He had been all protective and kind to begin with too. He used to buy her expensive trinkets, not that she needed them, nor wanted them, to be honest. All she desired was for him to need her, want her, love her.

But, as time went on and car keys in a glass bowl had been suggested as one night's form of entertainment, she finally realised she meant nothing to him.

She never contested the divorce settlement nor the assets; she didn't want anything to remind her of that chapter in her life. She was just glad to escape.

So, down to the Scottish Borders she went and took an office job, while she'd waited for notification that her divorce was final. It would have been a day of celebration had she not felt so pathetic. Her confidence had been knocked to hell to begin with, but working in the offices and making new friends eventually helped her overcome her some of her insecurities.

There she made a special friend in Drew Stewart. Thanks to him, she became absorbed in the game World of Warcraft.

And that probably explained her moment of utter foolishness with Khadgar. Having been caught up in the game for 12 months now, it was easy to transfer that kind of fantasy to someone who looked like a character within it. Oddly though, she had never considered the Archmage in a romantic light prior to meeting him "in the flesh". Somehow, she'd felt safe with him, and there was something so appealing about the man. But, he was Archmage, a sort of "untouchable". Not quite as pious as a priest, just... _forbidden fruit_ perhaps _?_  Maybe that was the attraction. She smiled a little.

But, there had been two definite similarities with Pete - protective to begin with, then discarded...again!

* * *

The King of Stormwind, leaned heavily on his fist, listening intently to his advisers. Commanders and a handful of high ranking officials from other factions debated on what they had heard in the throne room. His hooded eyes scanned their faces, before settling on his son. He was momentarily lost in thought, looking at, yet not quite seeing the young Prince.

Prince Anduin sensed the tension in the air. He knew when his father was preparing for battle; he recognised the look. But this time felt different. This time, he truly feared for him.

He was surprised that the King had taken on board what the strange woman, Sarah Metcalfe, had said. Especially as the rumoured Legion sightings had not all been confirmed by the kingdom's many allies who constantly kept vigil over the lands. Yet, she had been extremely compelling in her account of things to come. The Prince himself had found her prophetic announcement unnervingly believable; but then, he also considered himself a little more open-minded than his father.

Now, they awaited the return of Khadgar. Anduin guessed the Archmage had taken the woman to Dalaran. It was far enough away for her to be safe from those who considered her a potential threat, and convenient for Khadgar to ensure the Kirin Tor kept a close eye on her.

The Prince had instantly liked Sarah. He could see good in her and he recognised something else ... her utter, unshakable conviction of what she had revealed. He had felt the same way about the Vale when he had learned of it. And had he not proven his belief to be justified?

The concept of yet another world was incredibly exciting. There had to be millions of different universes and planets out there. Some would be paralleled, some stand-alone, unique perhaps. Who knew for certain? He wasn't entirely delighted at the thought of being a mere image in a machine however, but still, he would not dismiss it as an impossibility. He was, after all, very real indeed here and now in Stormwind.

As for her take on Illidan Stormrage. That one was still out for debate. Anduin knew little about the Betrayer, other than he was Malfurion's estranged, if not indeed,  _deranged_  twin brother. He had heard of the night elf who consumed the powers from Gul'dan's skull and therefore became half elf and half demon. It was rumoured he fought both sides and in doing so was exiled by his druid brother. But the way Sarah described it, Illidan didn't sound like the evil-doer he had been portrayed as. It was all very intriguing.

A whirring sound followed by a loud pop announced Khadgar's return through a nearby portal. Anduin went to greet him. He was full of questions for the Archmage. On seeing his troubled face however, he played it a little calmer. "Is Sarah alright?" he enquired.

Khadgar seemed to miss a beat at the question. "She is fine, Your Highness."

Something was wrong. Khadgar did not refer to him as  _Your Highness_  unless something had irritated him. "Perhaps you could tell me more about her? Later, of course."

Khadgar stopped abruptly. "I do not have time for idle chit-chat, Anduin. There are more important things to talk about than some - strange woman from another world. We are going to be at war!"

The young noble thought he saw Khadgar wince at his own words. Something was definitely amiss here. The Archmage had seemed quite fond of Sarah, in his own way at least, when he'd stood next to her in the throne room. Now, his reaction implied he had no time for her. What had happened in Dalaran that could have caused such a change in him, Anduin wondered. But, that was irrelevant for now. As Khadgar had rightly said, there were important matters at hand. They turned the corner and entered the throne room once more.

Varian's eyes narrowed as he saw Khadgar enter the room. Reading the Archmage's expression he knew something had went awry with the woman Sarah. Still, he had no time to dwell on such trivial matters nor with whatever issues Khadgar had with her either. Suffice to say, her knowledge was most informative, even if it was from outwith Azeroth's boundaries. And right now, that was all that was important.

Khadgar offered a small bow before the King. Their eyes met and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The monarch led the Archmage, Vindicator Ocel and other influential personages out of the throne room.

He guided them into the War Room. Here plans were made for battle; tactics discussed, new strategies considered, their armies and resources assessed. As they entered, a light coating of dust rose in the wake of the door opening and swirled in soft sun rays filtering through latticed windows. The room, with its dark wooden panels and countless books, maps and plans on crammed shelves, was nevertheless still rather dark. Varian looked back at the Archmage. "Khadgar, if you please?" he said with a definitive nod. In response to Varian's request, Khadgar lit all the candles in the room with a quiet incantation and wave of his hand. The mood was sombre as the assemblage of faction leaders, commanders and advisors gathered around the heavy wooden table on which a map of Azeroth was spread.

Small beautifully carved wooden lions, representing infantry, companys and battalions; horses - the cavalry; bronze galleons and airborne gunships were all positioned upon the map. After some discussion on the plan of attack, with knuckles resting on the table, Varian stood, deep in thought. A few eyebrows furrowed and brief glances passed between the men and women as they waited for their King to speak. Varian breathed in deeply through his nose, then he studied every person in the room as he exhaled. "Gentlemen, Ladies" he began. They all looked at him, deep respect in their eyes. "We have derived from Khadgar's excursion to Thal'dranath, which most of you know as the Broken Shore, that Gul'dan has indeed opened a gateway for The Burning Legion to enter Azeroth." Mumbles of restrained affirmation rippled around the room. Varian pushed himself up from the table. His eyes rested on the Archmage for a few moments. Khadgar's steel orbs regarded the King with quiet asservation. With another deep sigh, Varian addressed the aggregation in the room once more. "I also believe the woman Sarah Metcalfe."

The King's eyes narrowed as some protests were voiced. The rumble amongst the sceptics grew, each trying to reason with their King that he should not trust a woman who thinks that war is merely a game.

Varian crossed his arms and moved back. He looked to Vindicator Ocel and nodded. The draenei stepped towards the table. A sudden hush befell the room as the paladin threw a missive on the table, knocking some of the pieces aside. All eyes looked at the parchment, a rising tension vibrating in the air. " _That_ ," Ocel began. "Is a communiqué from Warlord Vol'jin. In it he has strongly argued for an amnesty between Alliance and Horde. They too know from their own sources of the pending assault and they have been preparing for battle also. We propose a unified front."

The ensuing silence spoke volumes. Varian approached the table once more. "So, as you see, the threat is indeed considered serious. Both Alliance and Horde have had scouts posted on the Broken Shore and with Khadgar's account of Gul'dan's activities at the Tomb of Sargeras, there is no reason to doubt Sarah Metcalfe."

"Perhaps she is working  _for_  the Burning Legion," one voice suggested.

"Such a ludicrous suggestion!"

Eyes all turned to Khadgar. His jaw was set tight and his eyes blazed. He continued. " _You_  may consider her the Legion's catalyst, but I will refute any allegation against her." The gathering stilled and all eyes rested on the Archmage. "She has reiterated what we already know to be fact without any input from us. Furthermore, her account of past events have been accurate to the finest detail. If we are able to trust and march side by side with sworn enemies, then surely you  _cannot_  accuse one woman of such a heinous act of espionage."

There was no more outspoken opposition, but clearly an underlying suspicion resided among some of the peers. Khadgar knew then while preparations for battle were being finalised, he had to keep Sarah away from Stormwind.

* * *

Hours turned into days. Long, tedious days and nights turned into three weeks. Her time in Dalaran was anything but intriguing now. She was intolerably lonely. There had been no word from the Archmage, let alone a visit. She had risen every morning, hoping to find him sitting in the living area. Perhaps even reading a book, just so he could say  _hello_  or  _how are you?_ He could go on his merry way after that and do whatever it was that always seemed needed doing, but just a  _little_ of his time would have been nice. She knew no-one else here after all.

Oddly enough, parcels and envelopes kept appearing at the front door, normally when she had been sleeping. She suspected they were from Khadgar. It was his house and, after all, he had dumped her there. But, never any note. Just food, some money, plus pretty clothes, which, she gathered perhaps Lukha had a hand in and then delivered most likely via portal. She was starting to feel a bit like a concubine (albeit non-servicing) and it was agitating her; stirring some not so pleasant memories of her days in Edinburgh.

She had ventured out now and again. A bit of sight-seeing to start with, then some shopping. There was no getting away from it, Dalaran  _was_  beautiful. The stunning spires, some of which were so tall that they were topped by fluffy clouds. They were astounding buildings, majestic and exquisite feats of architecture. The white stone with purple and golden turrets were truly wonderful to behold. The other many domed buildings housed a myriad of businesses, from tailors to herbalists, scribes to blacksmiths, jewellers to leather merchants.

The city boasted three auction houses, one of which, in the Sunreavers Sanctuary, she was not allowed to enter as the area was exclusive to those of the Horde. The other two, she visited out of curiosity, one in the Eventide, Alliance territory, and the communal one in the Magus Commerce Exchange. It was interesting and often very amusing, watching individuals getting heated under the collar, bidding for items they simply  _had_ to have, and did not always acquire. Their language was if anything, often colourful; almost as bad as hers when the occasion called for it.  _That_  at least made her smile.

There were two banks, one on either side of the city. These served both factions. For all they had their dedicated areas in the city, it was actually nice to wander the streets and see both Horde and Alliance within close proximity without either beating the crap out of each other. Granted, some expressions on the opposing faces suggested they would love nothing more than a good all-out wrestle, but this was neutral ground and fighting between them would not be tolerated. Unless of course they wanted to share cells with some truly evil-doers in Dalaran Prison.

Known as the Violet Hold, the prison held within its walls some of the Burning Legion's early conspirators. It was definitely a building one only wanted to view from the outside.

Beneath the city's streets, were the sewers. Strangely enough they were not quite as foul as they sounded and were commonly known as The Underbelly. Within the winding underground caverns was an inn no less, known as Cantrips & Crows. It played host to some more  _undesirable_  business dealings, let us say. There was also a chamber where the Rogues of Dalaran operated a Black Market; handy for reagents and other supplies favoured by the skilled assassins and acquired at a good price - allegedly.

Back at the city's surface, Sarah finally braved going into the Hero's Welcome Inn. She would sit with a book, or a newspaper and sneak glances at some of the patrons as they all sat together talking and laughing. That had been a true challenge for her, and she had to force herself to stay seated instead of running away. But, right now, she felt utterly lost, confused and alone. It made her long for home. The initial charm of finding herself in Azeroth had worn off, and she needed her workmates, Drew and the comfort of her own little house.

"Hi!" a deep voice sounded.

She looked up from her book. A night elf stood smiling at her. He was very tall, about six foot eight to ten perhaps, with long dark, almost black hair. He had a strong jaw line, and a very inviting mouth. He stood, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Hi," she replied.

"I've seen you come in here a few times. Would you like to join us?" He gestured to the table near the back of the lounge. There, sat another two elves, two dwarves and three humans. "My name is Tassarion," he said. His voice held the characteristic mellow tone of the night elves; dreamy and soothing.

"I'm Sarah," she smiled.

"Come join us, Sarah. We don't bite."

_There's a pity!_ She thought to herself, before closing her book and accepting his invitation.

A young man, in cloth robes observed the group from a table in the corner of the inn. He jotted notes in a small book and after a while he rose and left. He scurried to the Violet Citadel. The Archmage would want his daily report on how the woman was faring.

* * *

That night, Sarah returned to Khadgar's quarters having said goodnight to her new found friends at the inn. They had all seemed very nice. The elf Tassarion was particularly charming and very funny.

Closing the door she crossed the room, lighting some of the small lamps. She went into the bed chamber and removed her dress and her jewellery including the bracelet she had bought that day. Casually, she dropped it on the small wooden drawers beside the bed. She misjudged her aim and the bracelet slipped down the back of the cabinet. She pulled it forward to retrieve the bracelet. In doing so, she noticed a little door in the wall, no bigger than one and a half square feet. Curiosity got the better of her. She stretched down to open the door. Half expecting it to have a lock of sorts, she was surprised when it opened easily.

She quickly grabbed a nightgown and let it slide over her head, before investigating further. Behind the door was a recess and inside a wooden box. She lifted it out and sat on the bed placing it on her lap.

The sides of the box were covered in small carvings of what she gathered were runic symbols and the lid had a very delicate filigree mesh over it, again elaborately crafted.

She bit her bottom lip. Should she? Shouldn't she? It had to be something very personal to have been hidden, yet perhaps not of any monetary value when it wasn't locked.

Slowly, she removed the lid. Inside were some thin journals, some leather bound, others in cloth. She found a lock of hair tied with a small powder blue ribbon, a locket with a tiny picture of a young blood elf female. She was lovely, but then they all were. A scarf, and some letters, tied loosely with the same powder blue ribbon.

"Oh my god!" she breathed. Here were Khadgar's very private thoughts and correspondence. She lightly touched each of the items. Occasional words jumped out at her,  _Frostfire, Always yours, devoted..._

She knew she was about to breach his trust, yet, she felt compelled to read some of the contents. Maybe they would offer her a better understanding of the man who had all but abandoned her in Dalaran. Taking a deep breath, she opened the first journal. Her hands shook as she read his words.

**_It was touching to see her so excited that she had tamed the beast. Her youth so evident in her laughter, as it tried to lick her face. I was perturbed that she wanted me to pet it; I'm not particularly enamoured with those Clefthoof; they smell bad for one thing._ **

**_But she was so keen for me to join in her celebration of having cajoled the lumbering giant._ **

**_She could win anything and anyone over. Including myself. She just has a certain way with her. I dare to imagine sharing special, private moments with her, but I must not act on these feelings. I could not risk losing her for the sake of an impulsive moment._ **

**_But I do so adore her. Very much indeed..._ **

Sarah had not been able to breathe as she read his words, she found herself clutching her breast, completely entranced by the emotions behind the words. She exhaled and quickly turned the page. No! It did not continue. She flipped another page, sighing as she saw his writing again. Now his story had moved on.

**_In she came again last night, muttering about the snow and perpetual cold, and how she wishes for just one day at least, it would stop snowing._ **

**_She does make me smile so. She dreams of going home and wearing pretty dresses again instead of the thick wolf fur lined boots, heavy woollen shirts and pants with the leather chaps and armour. I can see her in those dresses. The warm summer breeze caressing her hair, so free, so beautiful._ **

**_It has become a little game of sorts, our banter. I think she likes to goad me at times just to get a reaction. Last night however, she surprised me._ **

**_I had been looking over plans for the Iron Front. As usual, I have to make sure we will do everything within our power to ensure the success and safety of our people. For her._ **

**_She complained again about the cold, so teasingly, I asked if I should warm her up._ **

**_Her answer took me by surprise. She said ... "yes." I was unsure at first if I had heard her correctly. She never normally rose to challenge my teasing. But there it was._ **

**_It pained me to see the sincerity and desire in her eyes. I had so wanted this. Dreamed of it many a lonely night..._ **

Once more, the next page was blank. Sarah's eyes shimmered. Khadgar had once more captured her imagination. This man felt so deeply, and yet he often held back. Why did he torture himself so?

Skimming through the journal and a letter or two, she found they spanned many years but it was difficult to tell if it was all about one woman, or many. She guessed it was the latter. It was rather sad that he always seemed riddled with guilt for feeling what he did. Yet, it seemed he had not been quite as lonely as she had first thought.

She could not bring herself to read more for she truly felt she had violated something very special and extremely dear to him.

Although the pages of the journals, and letters from his admirers, did not make him come across as a Lothario, he was evidently, a man who women seemed to fall for quite easily. Without question he was incredibly charismatic. Add to that his continual sense of guilt, fighting off natural urges, thoughts and emotions (which every man has) and thinking himself unworthy of love? Well, in her eyes, those qualities just made him all the more desirable. For all she had been so angry when he left her and never kept in touch, those feelings of annoyance had just been erased somewhat.

Now, she found herself wishing her initial hopes had not been so brutally dashed. She would love to be one of those women he wrote so beautifully about.


	8. PREPARATIONS

With scouts from the rival factions operating amicably together, a network arose in which information was readily shared between Alliance and Horde. Khadgar, who had always strived for them to overlook their politics for the good of Azeroth, was actively involved in ensuring both the safety of operatives and expert carriage of top secret communiqués reaching the eyes they were intended for. Fellow members of the Kirin Tor were pooled to provide aid in such tasks and so the smooth passage of covert intelligence was maintained. As the days passed, they formulated a clearer picture of the Burning Legion's masses. The news was not encouraging.

King Varian had called to arms all his allied forces. His covert operatives SI:7, aside from working with scouts, also sought any weak spots in the Legion's defences. Such an operation was proving fruitless on many fronts, for the majority of the demonic servants of Sargeras were still amassing within the Tomb. To enter there was to invite certain death and therefore lose any advantage the Azerothians hoped to gain.

Production of more complex and powerful engines of war were well underway by the time almost three weeks had passed. High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque, King of the gnomes had worked diligently with his engineers and created battlesuits which would annihilate countless demons; at least that was his sales pitch to the King of Stomwind. He'd stood atop a large crate next to the desk in the War Room as he explained the schematics to Varian. Avidly, with an extendable pointer which he'd also invented, he pointed out the various mechanics in the blueprints he had draped over Varian's desk. He seemed almost as proud of the pointer as he was of his weaponised suits and aerial adjustments he'd made to the gunships.

Genn Greymane, King of Gilneas, had assembled an army of fearless worgen warriors, hunters, rogues and warlocks. He assigned the druids and priests to the continually expanding corps of healers which would be much in demand for the forthcoming battle. Although he worked unremittingly alongside their newfound Horde allies, his distrust of them was evident. He voiced this openly to Varian during private discussions, declaring his particular misgivings of Sylvanas Windrunner, the Forsaken Queen. Both Varian and Khadgar listened to the grizzled leader of the worgen community, but put forward the argument that old feuds had to be put aside in order for Azeroth to survive this latest threat from the Burning Legion. Genn growled acquiescence with Varian's decision and sloped off to continue organising his squad of Gilnean Royal Guards.

Even with all the preparations for the enormous military operation ahead, Varian still wasn't satisfied that they had considered all options. After careful consideration and much debate, he sent word to the Death Knights of the Ebon Blade. He ordered that they reposition Archeus, their floating necropolis, to the Broken Isles. Khadgar was issued a similar task to utilise the Kirin Tor in shifting Dalaran across the waters also. The Archmage agreed, albeit reluctantly. Varian had noticed the look of subdued resignation in Khadgar's eyes. "You think this is folly?" He asked him.

The Archmage took a moment to answer. "No, I consider it a constructive move. However, in order to do so, we will need to evacuate Dalaran. Channeling the kind of power required to move such an enormous object will no doubt cause considerable damage to the city."

Varian started to pace with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "You are correct, of course. We must not put civilian lives at risk in this venture."

When Khadgar didn't move, the King stopped pacing and looked at the Archmage questioningly. There was something behind the steel eyes which Varian knew was nothing to do with actual task ahead of him. He approached him slowly. "That's where you have her hidden, isn't it?"

Khadgar's eyes met those of his King's. He exhaled. "Yes."

Varian battled to conceal a small twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Have you even visited her since you … deposited her there?"

Khadgar's face flushed slightly. "No, Sire."

"No! What? You have not even corresponded?" Varian exclaimed.

The Archmage shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I have been kept busy," he offered in way of explanation.

The King, unsure whether that was intended as a slight at his demanding all hands on deck or not, cleared his throat. He flexed his neck and rounded his shoulders. Taking a deep breath he spoke in very un-kingly manner. "I take it you have kept a watchful eye in place however?"

Khadgar nodded. "Yes. A young apprentice called Raimond Whitely has been delivering provisions and, well … watching over her – making sure she is safe."

"And was she aware that she was being –  _watched_?"

"No. At least, I told Raimond to be discreet."

Varian struggled to keep the mirth from his voice. Yes, the last three weeks had been arduous for all concerned, but he had not been completely insensitive to the Archmage's angst. He recalled how Khadgar had placed an arm around the woman Sarah's waist in the throne room that day she'd rather eloquently prophesised pending events.

They would be leaving the safety of their shores in a couple of days time to go to war. One of momumental proportions. The man deserved a little light relief. "I suggest you go eat first then head over to Dalaran."

Khadgar omitted an almost inaudible huff. Varian turned from him. If he met his eyes, he feared he would laugh out loud. "Visit your lady captive Khadgar, and pray she doesn't slap you silly for not even slipping her a note." On hearing no movement behind him, he chanced a glance over his shoulder. The Archmage was still standing, looking flummoxed. "Still here?" Varian said adopting his more authoritative tone. He turned away again. Once he heard the shuffle of the Archmage's feet retreat from the room, he smiled and enjoyed a small laugh to himself.

His eyes looked to the window and its many small panes. He crossed the distance in four long strides and scanned vista below. He observed, with equal shares of pride and sorrow that the good people of Stormwind worked tirelessly to rally all resources and volunteers to aid the cause. He knew many lives would be snuffed out as a result of war, but they had to hold fast to defeat the invading Legion. It would not be long now before their mission began.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his watch. He glanced down at the silver engraved casing, lightly tracing his thumb over the design. Pressing on the small clasp, it flipped open. Inside, the likeness of a young Prince Anduin, looked straight back at him. The corners of Varian's mouth twitched as he proudly beheld the image of his son. He now fought back a sob. "I have done all that I can to prepare for this war, my son," he said quietly. "I hope it is enough." He swallowed hard. "For Azeroth!" Then he gently touched the painted image. "For  _you_."

* * *

Vindicator Ocel, sat in The Golden Keg, waiting patiently for Khadgar to arrive. The inn was busy this evening, it seemed a high number of people readying for departure to various stations as per orders, saw fit to dine one last time in the city's finest before leaving.

He looked up as his slightly on-edge guest arrived. This was somewhat uncharacteristic of the Archmage, who always gave an air of collected coolness and calm, no matter the circumstances.

"My apologies Ocel," Khadgar offered as he sat down running his fingers through his tousled hair. "A rather busy time, as I'm sure you are aware." His tone was more official than necessary for his present company. He beckoned the barman and ordered two jugs of ale. Ocel declined as he still had half a tankard.

"Yes," the draenei agreed, "it is indeed a busy time, but what is with all the formality, old friend?"

Khadgar managed a wan smile. "I'm sorry. You're right. I was just ... planning for a return to Dalaran." His shoulders slumped slightly.

The draenei gulped some ale. "Ah, yes. The relocation of the city I believe."

"Indeed. No mean feat neither, even with a dozen mages."

Food arrived. Two generous plates of steak, sweet potatoes and glacéd carrots. "I took the liberty of ordering for us as it is so busy this evening."

"Good thinking. Perfect, "Khadgar thanked him.

The paladin waited until the waitress was out of earshot before he opened conversation. "So, what about the young woman, Sarah? Do you still have her hidden away in Dalaran?"

Khadgar hesitated, his fork stopping just short of his mouth before he shoveled in the food, making a play of chewing it at leisure. He nodded. "It was for her safety."

Ocel chortled. "Oh my friend, why do you resist so?"

Khadgar swallowed. "I don't know what you mean." He cocked an eyebrow at the draenei.

"Yes you do! We have known each other far too long for you to try and bluff me. I have seen the distant look in your eyes this while back. If anyone mentions her name, I see how it affects you. You tremble."

The Archmage sighed, put down his cutlery and reached for his ale. He was silent for a while and Ocel graciously allowed him the time to collect his thoughts. "I have much to bear, Ocel.  _Too_  much, at times." He smiled wearily, looking across the room at some of the couples who were saying their farewells, enjoying their last meals together before the pending war separated them. He found himself wondering how many would return. With a sigh he turned his attention back to his friend. "I do not have time for affairs of the heart, Ocel."

"Hmm." The draenei's tone clearly indicated he thought the excuse was a poor one. "Changed days then, my friend." He chortled quietly.

The Archmage smirked. "I was younger then."

Ocel guffawed. "You were stupid, too."

"Thanks!" Khadgar laughed as he lifted another forkful of food to his lips.

"But, you're even  _more_  stupid now."

Khadgar glared from beneath his lashes and underwent an involuntary tightening of his jaw. His friend was not one for sitting on the fence, he said it like it was. In this however, Khadgar thought it best to keep his life uncomplicated. Not that it was easy, the woman did plague his mind every day. He focused on his meal, refusing to pursue the subject. As suspected however, Ocel would not let it drop.

"Denying it does not make it any less true, Khadgar."

The Archmage tried to make the conversation light. "I never denied I was stupid."

Ocel grunted and rammed some food in his own mouth. "You know full well what I mean," he said between chewing.

Both of them looked towards the door as a tearful wife clung to her soldier husband, begging him to be careful and return home safely. Ocel sighed heavily. "It is a worrying time for all," he said. "Yet, to know you have someone to come home to, gives you strength." He turned to face Khadgar, his expression informing his friend that he would not escape this conversation.

Putting his fork down, Khadgar resigned himself that Ocel would not rest until he heard what he wanted to hear. Inhaling deeply, he tried explaining from a different tact. "It's not that I don't find her...attractive..."

The paladin smiled smugly, pleased that Khadgar recognised when he was beaten. "Go on," he coaxed as he took another swig of ale.

Khadgar shook his head, mildly amused at his friend and then explained the incident in his quarters when he'd tended her wounded hands. He had found her exhilarating and yes, he had entertained certain thoughts, but when she had quickly pulled away from him he had felt foolish for having considered such things.

The paladin slapped his friend amiably on the shoulder. "For a man who is formidable in battle, with enviable magical ability, is highly respected and revered by many, you  _are_ , nonetheless, my friend...a little dumb."

"Thought I was stupid," Khadgar grinned.

"You're both!" Ocel laughed.

"There's a difference?"

"Only where you're concerned."

Khadgar looked at him, a twinkle in his eyes. The enormous blue-skinned draenei had often been the voice of reason over the years for the Archmage. His council on a variety of subjects had been invaluable on many occasions. No less when it came to trying to make Khadgar see sense where the opposite sex was concerned. Ocel continued. "Do you know how many times my wife refused my advances in the beginning?" he began, between mouthfuls of pine nut bread.

Khadgar certainly did know, he had heard the story countless times. But, as always with Ocel, you listened to the tale every time for it was one of the draenei's particular favourites, which he so enjoyed telling.

"Twenty-three times, no less!" Ocel laughed, slapping the Archmage a little too heavily on the back. Khadgar nearly choked on a mouthful of his dinner, but managed a cough instead.

"And look at us now, my beautiful wife, Enhsa and I. We have thirteen children,  _twenty_  grandchildren, soon to increase to twenty- _one_." He puffed out his chest with pride.

"Congratulations," Khadgar commented. They chinked tankards and drank deeply.

The paladin's mood became a little more sombre. "But, I say this to you Khadgar. We face a mighty and powerful foe. One who we know will take the lives of some of the best of us." He gestured around the inn, indicating many of the soldiers and their families dining. "What if  _you_  were to be one of those snuffed out? Or indeed, what is  _she_  were one of the casualties of this war?" He paused long enough to see his words sink in. " _Go_  to her, Khadgar. Pursue her!  _Show_  her how you feel."

Khadgar sighed heavily. "I may have left it a bit late, though. Even Varian scolded me for not having written to her at least over these past weeks." He caught the draenei's astonished expression. "And anyway," he soldiered on, "she will not feel the same ..."

"I stand corrected, you are a  _big bit_  dumb," Ocel said, though not unkindly. " _I_  noticed how she looked at you in the throne room that day when she spoke of the Dark Portal and fighting alongside you. Alright, maybe it's make-believe, this  _game_ of hers, but the sentiment was not. Did you not even notice how her voice softened when she spoke your name? Honestly, my friend, when are you going to learn the subtle signs? I sense there could be something special there."

The Archmage slowly smiled. Then, with a satisfied smirk, Ocel added teasingly, "I'm sure she will overlook the small fact that you have ignored her  _completely_  for the past three weeks." He rolled his eyes.

The Archmage grimaced. "But I've made sure she was looked after, catered for."

"Not personally though, Khadgar. And you left her without even so much as a goodbye?" Ocel mumbled, waving a small farewell with his napkin to demonstrate.

Khadgar stabbed at the last piece of meat on his plate. "I'm sure she realised the things came from me. And she knows I am a busy man!" He said huffily.

Ocel sighed dramatically, "But, not even sending a little note with them, now and again,  _just_  to reassure her?" He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

Khadgar put down his fork and stared at Ocel. " _This_  is how you try to convince me to start an affair with her?"

The draenei laughed heartily. "I am just teasing you, old friend. You have to admit though, it was a little harsh just leaving her there."

"Alright! I get your point!" The two friends looked at each other and then could not help but laugh. They were too close to allow things to become hostile or petty.

Their meal over and the ale drained, they walked to the harbour, where Ocel preferred to board a ship bound for the Exodar. He could watch the sun set on the horizon one more time with his family, before joining his forces in Shattrath. They bade each other farewell and good luck. He watched as Khadgar stepped through a portal to Dalaran before it quickly snuffed out with a snap.

Standing on the dock, inhaling the late summer breeze watching dockhands stocking the ships, it dawned on him that this may be the last time he would see this amazing city.

Off to the left, he caught sight of Varian. He was bolstering his troops by the looks of it. The draenei was moved to see his King walk amongst the soldiers, wishing them good fortune and ensuring they had all what they needed for the coming battle. Varian caught sight of him and headed over, his guard accompanying him closely.

"Good evening, Ocel," he said. "I take it this will be you heading home first?"

The paladin nodded. "Yes Sire. One more day with my family before I travel to Shattrath."

"I wish you well then my friend. I hope we will meet again soon."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. The dark times  _will_  pass."

"I certainly hope so, Ocel." The King made to leave, but then an afterthought made him turn back ."Oh, by the way, you haven't seen Khadgar, have you?"

With a twinkle in his eyes, and a touch of the old draenei humour, he replied, "I believe he is presently attempting to make the earth move." He chortled.

King Varian looked at him quizzically.

Realising the humour was lost on his king, he stated the facts. "Dalaran, Your Majesty. You ordered him to relocate the city, yes?"

"Ah! Yes. I just, didn't realise he was gone already. Not good with goodbyes, is he, our Khadgar?" The King smirked.

"Oh, I think he is learning," Ocel chortled again.


	9. A BATTLE WORTH LOSING

Khadgar stood outside his front door. Just - staring at it. He wondered what kind of reception he was going to be subjected to. He imagined she would be a little annoyed with him. Possibly even  _quite_  angry. More likely - furious. He remembered their last time together; her consumption of Dwarven ale in The Golden Keg, then red wine behind this very door. She was certainly vocal with alcohol. His mouth twitched at the corners. He sincerely hoped she had not been drinking today.

In his half dozen (or so) dalliances over the years, never had his emotions been in such turmoil as they were now. He swallowed. Then again, he had never abandoned anyone as he had Sarah Metcalfe. He looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  _Aargh_! He inwardly chastised himself.  _I'm a grown man, for goodness sake,_  he reasoned.  _Then why did I treat her so dismally_? He sighed, frustration with his own behaviour overtaking concerns that she would – how was it Varian had put it?  _Slap you silly_. That was it. And if she did, would she not be entitled? Even so, he sorely wished he had handled things differently. At the time however, it seemed the only way. Logical. Practical. Justifiable.

Well, he was here now and whatever reaction she saw fit to award him, he would accept, without question. He took a deep breath. Rounding his shoulders and flexing his neck, he gripped the door handle. For just a beat, he almost withdrew his hand but, conforming to the inevitable, he opened the door and stepped inside. He exhaled loudly. No sign of her. He moved through the rooms, each step becoming bolder as he realised she was not on the premises.

She could not have gone far however. Raimond had kept a close eye on her activities, carefully creating a catalogue of behaviours and patterns. The Archmage grinned and shook his head. The boy had taken the task far too seriously, in Khadgar's opinion, but he did not wish to deter the lad from being thorough. It was an exercise after all, that would serve him well when he graduated as a mage in later years.

Raimond had been excruciatingly precise with his accounts of Sarah's comings and goings from Khadgar's quarters. The times she would leave the building were marked down to the exact second. The kind of day it was, whether sunny, overcast or even raining would then lead him into describing her choice of attire and commenting as to whether he considered it appropriate for the weather. He described goods which she browsed in the shops and those she purchased. Some items however, had the boy flummoxed and his descriptions were – well, comical, to say the least.

Her trips to the auction houses, patisseries, outfitters, jewellers even her ventures to the Underbelly; everything was documented in articulate detail. Except, that was, her visits to A Hero's Welcome. Other than mentioning she had entered, sat down, ordered a drink and read a book, her trips to the establishment were almost skimmed over although it was, he noted, a place she frequented regularly. At least, she had in the past week, during which time he added, she had become acquainted with some locals. And so, the most likely place to look first, would be the said inn.

On approaching the entrance to the public house, Khadgar could make out her laughter. The sound filled him with bitter sweet emotions. It was not shrill for all it was clearly audible. It carried on the air like a melody.  _At least she has made friends in my absence,_ he accepted. But still, a note of regret hung on such a thought.

He entered. A table at the far back of the lounge was occupied by a group of 3 night elves, 2 dwarves, 3 humans, and Sarah. The Archmage watched silently, a sting of envy washing over his entire being as the male night elf to her right leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. Khadgar could almost see the tips of her hair wafting from the elf's breath. His stature stiffened as the Kaldorei took to combing his fingers through her hair then nuzzled her neck. Oblivious to his presence, Sarah laughed and playfully pushed the elf back, nearly dislodging him from his seat. Laughter erupted from all her companions. The elf scrambled back, threw his arms around her, and kissed her cheek.

"Sarah!"

Everyone turned at the unexpected interruption. The humans and dwarves were quick to acknowledge Khadgar with a respectful bow. Two elves did likewise. The dark haired one beside Sarah, however, merely stared at him, smugly, and pulled her closer. Sarah's eyes locked with Khadgar's. Brief surprise washed over her. He had expected indifference. Her smile faded almost instantly.

It took Khadgar an insurmountable amount of reserve to appear unaffected by her obvious eschewal. He cleared his throat. "May I have a moment of your time. Please."

She remained still for a few seconds, but conceded and moved out from behind the table. The elf was reluctant to let her go, trying to pull her back. "Tassarion!" she laughed, peeling his arms from her waist. He yanked her down and again whispered in her ear. She glanced up at Khadgar. Tassarion pulled her closer and kissed her on the lips while her eyes were still locked with the Archmage. Khadgar's jaw tightened. He turned and abruptly left.

Outside, she saw him standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the bank. He seemed to be suppressing some pent up emotion. With his brow knotted and steel eyes dark and brooding, he looked as stern as he had that last day she saw him. Momentarily filled with remorse for not having stopped Tassarion behaving so recklessly, she took a tentative step forward. She knew the kiss mattered not to Khadgar. Why would it? She was of no interest to him. His silence over the weeks had informed her that much. So what was eating him? She wondered. His posture looked defensive; chest heaving under his robes, hands flexing in and out of fists, feet planted firmly on the paved street. She started walking steadily towards him.

He inclined his head to the side, just enough to acknowledge her presence. "I see you have been busy," he said coldly, with a sharp nod in the direction of the inn.

His accusatory tone immediately made her defensive. "Did you expect me to live like a  _recluse_?" she spat back.

"Something like that, perhaps." He scoffed. Now his tone was haughty, airing superiority. "After all, it is what you were in  _your_  world, before you came to mine."

His words ripped her. A gasp escaped her lips but her eyes were ablaze. She stormed away in the direction of his quarters. Quick, purposeful strides, arms swinging in military fashion she stormed across the path of some passers-by.

Khadgar gritted his teeth.  _What on Azeroth is happening to me here_? he chided. His behaviour and words were utterly out of character. He fumed and clenched his fists. These emotions were bordering out of control. This was why he preferred an uncomplicated life. He grunted. Who was he kidding! His life was anything  _but_  uncomplicated. Watching her furious figure receding from his view, he briskly started after her. "Do not walk away from me!" he shouted. Civilians with stunned expressions watched the two rushing past.

"Why  _not_?" She threw back over her shoulder, swishing her hair. "You did it to  _me_. Remember? For bloody weeks I hasten to add!"

He faltered, his pace slowing dramatically.  _Ouch! That was a damn good comeback._  He admitted. The pursuit resumed. "So, I guess cavorting with an Illidan look-a-like is your way of dealing with it?"

She halted abruptly. As such he had caught up with her very quickly. She glanced to her left, then right. Her jaw tightened. Quick as a flash, she turned and slapped him. Hard. On both cheeks.

He staggered back, utterly astounded by her reaction. Gasps escaped witnesses in the street. Fingers pointed at the woman who had just assaulted the great Archmage Khadgar of the Kirin Tor.

Sarah turned furious eyes on them all. " _What_!" she challenged. "He may be titled an Archmage, but he is still  _just a man_!" She faced Khadgar again and through tight lips she hissed. "A  _heartless_  and  _insensitive_  one at that!" Immediately, she regretted her last statement. It could not be retracted now. Her bottom lip quivered as her breathing hitched. Trying to think straight, and failing, she whirled round and proceeded towards his quarters once more. Heads turned to watch the squabbling couple as they rushed through the streets.

Massaging his stinging cheeks, glancing apologetically at the onlookers, he followed her. Watching her from behind, with her hair bouncing and swishing around her shoulders as she marched, the Archmage suddenly stopped caring about the people watching them. It didn't matter anymore. A veil had been lifted, or perhaps more accurately, it had been slapped away from him.

"Don't worry," she shouted, a little breathlessly, "I will get my things and be out of your way. I'm sure Tassarion will let me stay with  _him_." She huffed. Khadgar grinned.

She reached the stairs that spiralled to his quarters and ran up. He was quick to follow, bounding two, three steps at a time and reaching the door just before she slammed it in his face. He barged in and locked the door behind him.

She stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, breathing hard, fury emanating from her every pore.

 _By the grace of Elune, she is beautiful!_  He felt every breath in his body had been sucked clean out. Everything was crystal clear now. Past flirtations and dalliances, although very pleasant, had never fulfilled him; he now saw them as lacking. For that reason perhaps he had often felt ashamed and guilty when he acted upon his feelings. Ocel's words returned to haunt him. If all went horribly wrong and their time in this life was to end in the coming war, he would regret never having done what he had so desperately wanted to do. He yearned to kiss her. From the first moment he saw her lying on the ground in Elwynn Forest, this intoxicating woman, had him  _completely_ spellbound.

His eyes raked over her. He noted the slight sheen of perspiration on her top lip and just above the neckline of her dress. Her breasts heaved beneath the soft fabric, causing its soft pleats to ripple. His eyes drifted to her waist, her hips, pausing long enough before it was deemed inappropriate. His steel orbs rose again to her face. The crease of her mouth widened just enough for the tip of her tongue to moisten her lips; they were dry from her breathing hard after her furious stampede. He watched, as slowly her eyes mellowed to the soft brown once more.

Even though the hurt of being abandoned by him three weeks prior had lessened, its residue still lingered. Every day she had risen, hoping to find him waiting for her, but the rooms had remained empty. Life back in her own world had seemed more appealing as each lonely day had passed, but she knew no way home. Her loneliness had been intolerable. Forcing herself to venture out to meet some of the inhabitants had been unbelievably difficult to start with. As for Tassarion and the others, they were merely drinking partners nothing more. Perhaps the elf wouldn't like her take on things, but that's how it was. Ridiculously, having been left in a strange city by Khadgar, without so much as a  _goodbye_ , or a  _how are you_  occasionally, she inexplicably found herself aching for him even more.

His cutting words outside the bank however, had lacerated her heart. She fought back, surprisingly.  _If all else fails, smack them_ , she mused. She lowered her head, fighting a smirk which threatened to break through her taut mouth. A paradigmatic trait of hers was trying to find humour in moments of worry or sadness. Still, it didn't really lighten the situation between them. She chanced a glance through strands of her hair which had fallen like a curtain, almost concealing her face from the steel eyes that watched her from across the room. Why was he looking at her so?

So, here they were, facing off. Both hurting. Both needing. Both wanting.

Khadgar began to cross the room - slowly, deliberately. She watched his feet as they neared her. Instinctively, she stepped back. He stopped.

Sarah's breathing deepened as he resumed his advance. Her eyes flitted to her left as his right hand moved slowly forward, gauging her reaction. Her focus closed around his sleeve. She could see the weave of the cloth perfectly clearly; its criss-cross pattern shifting slightly as he moved nearer. A tiny gasp, almost just a breath escaped her lips as her eyes travelled down to his hand. She noted the texture of his skin. Weathered, one or two small scars but still strong. Nails just crowning the tips of his fingers, well manicured; the half-moons of his cuticles on clear display. How was it she was able to take in such fine detail? Under such … pressure. Her heart started to pound. She jumped a little as his hand came to rest on her waist. She raised her eyes to meet his.

The tall athletic frame towered over her, drawing closer with each breath. The corners of his mouth toyed with a smile. He slid his arm round her back, pulling her just a little closer. She offered no resistance. His left hand rose to gently caress her face. With a sigh she melted against his touch, nuzzling the palm of his hand.

"What have you done to me, Sarah Metcalfe?" He whispered. He drank in the vision that was her. The wonder of her hair, silken, vibrant, fragrant, invited his fingers to toy with strands which still covered her face. He could not bear that her features were hidden from him. Sweeping her hair behind her ear, he traced his thumb over her cheek, down to the corner of her mouth. Tightening his hold of her waist, he pressed his body against hers. "This is a battle I was not prepared for," he whispered. "I want to be with you but, I don't know if I should."

She looked into the steel eyes of the man who had all but ruined his reputation as the staid, righteous and powerful Archmage of the Kirin Tor. What had people thought when he'd chased her through the city streets? His face told her all. He cared not what they thought. Their judgement mattered not, for now here he stood, holding her, wanting her. Her fingertips traced his brow, his cheeks and finally his mouth. "Then stop fighting," she breathed back. "I willingly accept your surrender."

His mouth hovered millimetres from hers. "Fair warning Sarah Metcalfe, it will not be easy being with me. Times ahead will be difficult."

Her mouth curved into a nervous smile. "I am stronger than I look," she replied. "But be aware, I am no less a challenge. I am willing to enter the battlefield if you are."

In a kiss as deep as the well of eternity, Khadgar accepted her gauntlet. As he pulled her closer she moulded to his shape and all her anger, bitterness and misunderstanding evaporated. She fell into his embrace wanting the intimacy to stay frozen in time. They remained wrapped in each other's arms for a few minutes. Then he groaned. Sarah frowned. It wasn't entirely the blissful sound one had hoped to hear at such a moment. She detected something in it that did not bear the promise of taking this to second base. Pulling back she looked up into his eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He swallowed before answering. "I have to send you to Stormwind. Now."

"You're kidding me!" Her eyes wide, she could not believe what he was telling her.

"I want you to be safe..."

"I am! I'm here, with  _you_." She pleaded, "How much safer can I be? I want to stay here, with  _you_."

"You cannot, Sarah. I have work here which will endanger everyone in the city and I simply can't focus with you around."

She stepped away and turned. This wasn't how she had hoped it would go. One moment, he was all passionate, next he was like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.  _Simply can't focus_  with her around? This man was so much more complex than she had realised.

She felt his hand on her shoulder as he whispered her name. Turning to meet his gaze again, she conceded it had not been a decision he had wanted to make; it was one of necessity. The pain of longing in those grey orbs tore at heart. She wrapped her arms around him wanting to steal every last moment she could before she had to leave. "Very well," she sighed, her voice quivering. "Just promise you will come back to me."

He squeezed her tightly. "Yes, I promise." He kissed her again. "Now, you must collect whatever you need, Sarah. I will portal you to Stormwind. The Prince himself is keen to get to know more about you and your world."

"Anduin? Really?" She was amazed at this piece of news.

"Yes," Khadgar replied smiling.

"And the King is agreeable to this? I mean, won't he mind my being around the court?" She moved through to the bed chamber and collected some clothing she had purchased along with one or two trinkets.

Khadgar smiled, "Pretty," he commented on some of her choices. She smiled back. "And in answer to your question, I think Varian will be pleased his son has you as a companion while he is away."

"Away?" She inhaled sharply. She looked at him. Fear lay in her eyes. "What,  _exactly_  is it you are here to do? Is it by order of the King?" Dread crept over her.

Khadgar nodded. "We have to teleport Dalaran to the Broken Isles. That is why you must not be on this rock when that happens."

She had assumed things had taken a different direction from Warcraft's plot. It hadn't taken three weeks in-game for them to shift the floating metropolis. As time had passed she had believed her mere presence and attendance at court had altered the storyline. How wrong she had been. She slumped on the bed, spilling some of the contents she'd packed into a hexweave bag. Khadgar, his brow furrowed knelt beside her picking up her belongings. "The King," she whispered with a distant look in her eyes. "Does he  _have_  to fight alongside his men?" she asked.

"Yes, that is what Kings do," he replied with the barest of smiles.

It became apparent that some details of the game had been omitted from her previous revelations. "Just how much did I tell you that night in the Golden Keg?"

Khadgar stopped. A dark, foreboding tone resonated in Sarah's voice. "Pretty much the same as what you informed the court and Varian. Why?"

Closing her eyes, she felt a tightness in her chest. The crux of the story was still unknown to him. Placing a hand on his arm, her eyes opened once more and she looked straight at him. She was trembling. "There is more, Khadgar.  _Much_  more."

* * *

The signature pop of a portal sounded in the upper courtyard of Stormwind Keep. Khadgar stood with Sarah near the base of the steps. Their arrival did not go unnoticed, and they were greeted kindly by those in the vicinity.

The Archmage nodded in response to the salutations and lightly gripped Sarah by the elbow.

"I can't!" she hissed.

"You  _have_ to, Sarah. Time is of the essence. I will have you escorted to Prince Anduin." He looked up for a guard.

"But I cannot pretend that I do not know what is going to happen to his father. I just cannot do that to the boy," Sarah protested.

His attention returned to her. "You can, and you will!" He signalled to a guard who was stationed at the top of the steps. Then he turned to face her again. "There are  _some_ things Sarah, that simply cannot be changed, no matter how desperately we wish them."

She paused. Filled with sorrow, she leaned her head against his chest. "I should have told you sooner."

"Well," he looked a tad sheepish, "that was hard for you considering I left you in Dalaran... for a long time."

She smirked a little at his obvious embarrassment about that particular decision.

"But," he continued. "It would not have changed the course of events. We have known this war was coming, Sarah. We just didn't know the magnitude with which it would descend. Thanks to you, we now have a clearer picture. You have given us an advantage."

The guard was closing in on them. "What about the King," she whispered, "are you going to try dissuade him from fighting on the front line?" She looked hopefully into his eyes.

He shook his head. "No. I'm not. Varian must lead his men into war."

"But he's your King, Khadgar and he is going to di…"

"Sarah!" Khadgar's voice had an edge to it. She knew it was not aimed at her, but rather his inner turmoil with the knowledge the King was about to die. The Archmage sighed. "He  _must_  go to the Broken Shore. Take comfort in knowing you have done all you can in helping us thus far."

She fought the sting of tears. He was right, yet it seemed so cold, so pointless her even being here if it had not been to change the course of, what ...  _history_? A game plot? The lines between reality and fantasy were fast becoming indecipherable.

"Be strong, Sarah. For me.  _Please_." He clasped her upper arms, making her look up at him. "I will come back for you, I promise."

She smiled wistfully and Khadgar's lips softly brushed hers as he tenderly cupped her face in his hands.

The approaching guard tripped just a few feet from their location, obviously stunned by what he had just witnessed. He quickly righted himself in a clank of armour and weaponry, before coming to a customary halt beside the Archmage and the alien woman.

Sarah and Khadgar smiled at each other knowingly. They suspected they would get that kind of reaction quite a lot from now on. "Stay safe," Khadgar said.

"You too," she replied. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him conjure a portal then vanish within its watery centre, before it snapped shut.

"My Lady," the guard said. "Follow me, please." He spun round and started to climb the sweeping stairs to the Keep.

She glanced once more to where the Archmage had disappeared from her sight. Tracing her lips where his had been only seconds before, she wondered why there was always pain in a beautiful moment. Lowering her eyes, she made her way up to the Keep with a heavy heart.


	10. THE RELOCATION OF DALARAN

The Keep was buzzing with many of the allied factions in the final stages of preparing for war. Walking through the Keep, Sarah was struck by the positive energy they all possessed. They firmly believed they would triumph over the Legion invasion. She hung her head as she moved through the corridors. It was enormously hard to join in their enthusiasm when she was knew the grim outcome. Knowledge, she confessed inwardly, was not always power. In this instance, she felt it was nothing more than a cruel twist of fate. Humour for the gods while they watched her squirm with inner torment as it twisted and pulled her from all directions. Having to stay quiet, keep the King's pending demise a secret, while battling with her overloading conscience would be entertaining indeed for celestial beings –  _who_ ever,  _where_ ver,  _what_ ever they were.

Her heart was bleeding for the young Prince. It was going to be a monumental task remaining upbeat in his presence. Without question she must, at all costs, steer him from asking her about the game – at least about the recent expansion. It was unrealistic she guessed, to avoid talking about Warcraft altogether. He was bound to ask about the time she spent in Pandaria where he discovered the Vale. Then again, she wondered if he was aware of its corruption following the Sha being loosed upon it thanks to Garrosh Hellscream.  _Were they perhaps lost in their own timelines,_  she wondered. She shook her head, mumbling her worries to herself as she kept in step with the guard. The plate clad escort said nothing, though his eyes glanced to his side now and again as he heard her unintelligible mutterings. He steered her towards the library which was sited at the far west of the throne room.

"Sarah Metcalfe!" A hypnotic voice spoke. She turned to see Tyrande Whisperwind, High Priestess of Elune and Leader of the Kaldorei gliding towards her across the lawn. There was no denying the night elf was immeasurably stunning with her soft flowing hair adorned in small sparkling jewels and a garland headdress. Her sylph-like figure was draped in silk and gossamer. No wonder the Stormrage brothers fell in love with her. But there was so much more to her than mere beauty. She was wise, decisive, powerful and a great leader; even though Sarah was strongly opposed with the Priestess' evaluation of Illidan. Offering a deferential gesture of respect to Tyrande, she waited until the night elf stood directly in front of her.

"I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you again," the High Priestess began. "But, as you are now a guest of His Highness', I bid you welcome."

Sarah swallowed. "Thank you for being so gracious, Priestess." She managed a small smile before turning to walk away, but Tyrande was not finished with her.

"I did not appreciate your assumptions last time we met," she said quietly, but with an air of authority.

Sarah turned to face her antagonist.  _Was there a hint of a threat in those words?_  she wondered. "With all due respect Priestess, you have your beliefs and I have mine," she answered, trying to prevent the confrontation escalating into unpleasantness.

"It is  _High_  Priestess," Tyrande corrected her. The elf's nacreous eyes held Sarah to the spot. "You come to us spouting stories from a book..."

"Actually, it's a  _game_ ," said Sarah. Irked by the sudden pomposity afforded her she took pleasure in pointing out that even a High Priestess made mistakes.

The night elf narrowed her eyes at the Earthling. " G _ame_  then, if such childish and trivial pastimes really matter, of course" Her stature dared Sarah to retaliate. Although her eyes blazed, Sarah did not otherwise react. Tyrande continued. "You were not there, Sarah Metcalfe. You did not witness Illidan's affront. You have no right to judge."

Sarah looked over Tyrande's shoulder. Malfurion was watching them intently from across the lawn. Although neither were particular favourites of hers, she was not stupid enough to even contemplate challenging either the druid or priestess. Furthermore, without Khadgar here to whisk her away through a portal if she over-stepped the mark, it would indeed be a grave mistake to aggravate them. They reeked of power.

"You're here! Welcome!" Prince Anduin arrived suddenly by her side, obviously delighted she had come.

"Your Highness," she greeted him with a bob of her head and a smile before returning her gaze to the High Priestess. Quietly she spoke to Tyrande. "I do not disparage what you and Malfurion perceive as the truth, High Priestess. That does not mean however, that you were necessarily correct in  _your_  assumptions either." She inwardly grinned as she saw the hint of a virulent sneer toy with the corners of Tyrande's mouth. "Yes, Illidan chose a different path, but still he held the same ideals as both you and Malfurion – to bring an end to the Burning Legion. However, on a comparable note, I also read that your mate left you for thousands of years, to  _sleep_  no less, in the Emerald Dream! But, as I wasn't there either, I suppose I have to be wrong about that too?"

Tyrande flinched. Sarah pressed on, "So, if fur and feathers..." she motioned to Malfurion with a nod of her head, "... is your preference, then I wish you great joy and a bright future." She leaned forward, just a shade and lowered her voice so the druid would not hear her. " He could do with a good brush by the way." She grinned, thinking her comment amusing. Once more she turned to leave.

Incensed by the woman's quip, Tyrande was not done yet. With a forced laugh, she said "From the gossip in the courtyard, Sarah Metcalfe, I hear I am not the only one who prefers feathers. Only,  _your_  kind belongs to that of a raven."

Anduin glanced between the two women. He had not been witness to such an exchange before, and secretly admitted he found it very entertaining. He wondered however, if he had just understood the Priestess' insinuation correctly. Was the inkling he had from the day Khadgar and Sarah appeared at court perhaps accurate?

Mustering all the dignity she could, Sarah stepped closer to the night elf and with a tight smile said, "Touché.  _Priestess_."

Tyrande watched as Anduin led his guest towards more private quarters within the keep. She smiled thinly. She had to admit, the woman conducted herself well and displayed an inner strength which was almost admirable. Although, she mused, quite what Khadgar saw in her, was still a mystery.

* * *

The mages were arriving steadily in Dalaran. They had been instructed to open more portals through which the inhabitants of the city could depart more quickly to their home towns in various parts of Azeroth. The relocating of Dalaran was going to be a mammoth task not without its risks and so the Archmage had ordered the city to be evacuated well in advance of the event.

Among the mages Khadgar had called on to aid in the relocation was Bati from the Exodar, Forthisal D'Neve of SI:7, Ysuria, the portal trainer from Theramore and Captain Balinda Stonehearth from the Alterac Valley. They, together with the mages from Kirin Tor would join together in the task. Archmage Jaina Proudmore was also on her way. Until all were assembled, Khadgar had time for some reflection and food. He was ravenous, not having eaten since the night before in Stormwind with his friend Vindicator Ocel.

The city was now nearly empty, but Isirami Fairwind had insisted she and her staff at A Hero's Welcome stay so they could provide food and drink for the mages during the relocation and also for any people who needed sustenance once their destination was reached. The Archmage had argued with the innkeeper, but she was as stubborn as he and refused point blank to leave. So, it was the Inn he went for a quiet meal before the work truly began.

He sat alone at a table not far from where he'd found Sarah with her companions the day before. He recalled how raw his emotions were when Tassarion kissed her. He smiled at the memory now. Having shed his defenses and let her into his heart, he was, all things considered, now at peace with himself. There was much to do in the days, weeks if not  _months_ , to come, and they would not pass without fear, strife, and loss, but somehow he had finally understood Ocel's words. There would be someone waiting for him. Just for him. Involuntarily, he sighed heavily.

"Is the food that bad, Khadgar?"

He snapped out of his reverie at the sound of Jaina Proudmore's voice. He laughed lightly. "Not at all, Jaina. Will you join me?" He pulled out a chair for her.

"May as well," she said, signalling for service. Her order taken and the two Archmages left in privacy, they began discussing the monumental task ahead of them.

Although Jaina was the Leader of the Kirin Tor and had worked closely with Khadgar during many missions and battles, she did not share his optimism for the Alliance and Horde to work together. Her distrust of them remained absolute. On that front, she shared Genn Greymane's misgivings. Even in light of their now common foe, the Burning Legion, she would never approve of her fellow Archmage's attempts to unite the warring factions in a bid to defeat the demonic armies. She scoffed as she listened to how the age old enemies were pooling forces. She sat, absent-mindedly drumming agitated fingers on the table while Khadgar spoke enthusiastically of progress.

Notwithstanding her enmity towards the Horde, she would nevertheless demonstrate her assiduous leadership qualities and do all within her power to ensure the survival of the Alliance. This task however, was no simple feat. It was going to take all of them to teleport Dalaran. She hoped it would be enough.

"We must begin shortly," she said, draining her goblet. "The forces are readying their advance. This has to be done precisely Khadgar. If we arrive too early, the Legion will be forewarned of our strategy and we will have invited an ambush. Too late, and our people, including Varian, will be slaughtered before we can be any use to them."

"Agreed. But, according to our source, this is going to be an invasion of a truly enormous magnitude. There is more than just timing which will decide the success of this mission."

The Leader of The Kirin Tor smirked. "Ah yes. The stranger." Jaina's eyes flickered a moment. "We do not need some out-of-world individual telling us how to fight our battles Khadgar. We have been doing it for millennia."

Khadgar stiffened slightly, but remained calm. "I understand your reservations Jaina, but for all our vast experience, I cannot confidently say we have  _mastered_ war. Perhaps fresh eyes may be advantageous."

Jaina pushed her chair back and stood, looking down at her fellow mage. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, quietly studying Khadgar for a few moments. "Hmm. I have heard rumours it is not just her fresh eyes that interest you, Archmage."

Khadgar held her gaze, saying nothing. Jaina grimaced as she made to turn away. "Your silence says it all. Beware of your heart Khadgar. For once torn asunder, it never recovers." She left for the Violet Citadel without waiting for a response.

Khadgar knew her words reflected her own pain. Arthas Menethil, Prince of Lordaeron, was once the man she had loved and been set to marry. But, Arthas had ended up as a mere pawn, in a sinister plot devised by Ner'zhul the Lich King, who desperately sought to escape his frozen imprisonment. Plunging the runeblade Frostmourne into the snows of Northrend for some fool to find, Ner'zhul merely had to wait.

That fool had been Arthas. The path he took afterwards, which ultimately led him to becoming the new Lich King, destroyed Jaina. She had never recovered from finding what her lover had become. Still scarred by those events, Jaina would never believe anyone, especially not her fellow Archmage, could hope to find love without it having a devastating consequence. Therefore, Khadgar allowed her her cynicism without challenge. He finished his wine and left for the Citadel.

Jaina and Khadgar would remain on Dalaran creating the initial portal and driving the metropolis through, while the others, stationed above The Ruins of Shandaral and The Azure Stand, were instructed to reinforce and maintain the portal's structure. Their combined powers would increase its size so the floating island could safely pass through.

Jaina looked to Khadgar. "Let us begin," she said.

Azure blue and amethyst swirls manifested, bleeding from their fingertips and merging to form a central point. Their sortilege intensified, and with it came the steady thrumming of powerful magic. Raising their arms, the Archmages manipulated the coloured swirls as they continued to magnify. A transluscent dome then spread overhead, providing a hub within which they would draw on the elements to feed their individual powers. Similar structures encompassed the others on the Stand and in the Ruins. The ground began to vibrate. Clouds, which roiled lazily at first, then dispersed as the spells started to slice their way through the air. A nubilous centre formed above them where their unified beams converged. The combined power of all the mages forced the circumference of the portal to expand.

While Jaina focused entirely on its centre, Khadgar checked the other mages were administering their magic towards the opening. The noise of the air being torn asunder became deafening. Winds escalated with the shift in atmospheric pressure. Looking to his right, Khadgar saw one of the mages buckle under the force. Quickly she recovered and re-cast her spell, her focus now unwavering.

Jaina shouted to Khadgar over her shoulder. "We need more power! It is weakening." As if all had heard her, they generated more arcane power infusing it with the elemental force of frost and fire to stabilize the portal.

With robes billowing and hair swept out behind her, Jaina began to drive the island towards the centre. Lightning exploded all around them, hissing and sizzling as it hit the buildings and the ground. Stone from some of the city's highest structures fragmented and fell to the street, disintegrating as they hit the paved walkways. Their impact could not even be heard over the tearing of the sky and the crashing elements, but they were nonetheless noticed from the corner of Jaina's eye. "Khadgar! Now!" She could barely be heard over the thrumming spells and screaming winds.

But hear her, he did. Yelling out an incantation, a polychromatic ball of power manifested between his hands. It continued to steadily expand, pulsing, shimmering as he maintained his conjuration. When it seemed like he could contain it no more, he adopted a steadying stance - knees bent and feet planted firmly on the ground. Drawing his arms back he then pushed forward and hurled the opalescent sphere towards the portal. Like a magnet, the portal drew the sphere in. It was instantly absorbed and the opaque centre shuddered. A moment later, it perforated and the hole expanded rapidly. Turbulence erupted, causing the entire metropolis to shake violently. The mages, Khadgar and Jaina included, fought to stay upright and sustain their combined forces. From their viewpoint, the fluorescent green of fel magic could be seen lighting the sky on the other side of the rip. The city thrummed and pulsated it way to the opening. The other mages mass teleported to stand side by side with Jaina and Khadgar. Once more all twelve combined their magic as Dalaran passed through the torn fabric of Northrend's sky and floated out over the waters off the Broken Isles.

"Wait!" Jaina ordered. She looked behind them to ensure the city passed through in its entirety. "Ok, Khadgar. Close the portal! The rest of you, keep this rock afloat and restructure its levitation."

The teleportation had taken much out of them all. Jaina was no exception. She walked, exhausted, towards the edge of Krasus' Landing. Her hair clung to her face, her skin damp from the exertion of streaming such powerful magic. Before long, all the mages joined her. "By the power of the Light!" she exclaimed. The look of horror on her face was not without just cause.

Below them, pooling from demon gateways, thousands upon thousands of demons emerged. Doomguards, fel-hounds, succubus, infernals and countless other abhorations marched steadily towards the beaches where Alliance and Horde forces had already arrived. The skies rained down huge fel meteors, smashing the decks of some of the anchored ships. Elementals of epic proportions emerged from the ashes, smashing the ships to pulp and slaughtering the crews.

King Varian's gunship was approaching from the south.

"It seems your stranger was not misguided after all, Khadgar," Jaina breathed. All of them were speechless on seeing the sheer numbers of demons pouring forth from the Tomb of Sargeras. The only communication between them were their shocked expressions. Jaina turned to Khadgar. "Go! Do what you have to do!"

Without hesitation, he turned to leave. Unexpectedly, the Leader of the Kirin Tor shouted him back. Her mouth was set in a tight line as her eyes had resumed scanning the chaotic scene below. A few breaths later, she turned back to her fellow Archmage. She could tell he was eager to leave and carry out the task he had set himself. "Be careful, friend." The silver-haired Archmage was noticeably surprised by her sentiment. She smiled wanly. Turning her head to look back at the demonic armies she voiced a blessing. "May the Light guide you."


	11. THE DAWNING

The Prince was a most amiable and gracious host. In giving Sarah the tour of the Keep and its grounds she found her sombre mood being lifted. Genuinely interested in what she was being shown, she asked may questions, which skilfully deferred the young noble's curiosity from her gaming.

It was wonderful to see parts of the royal residence which had never been depicted in-game. Corridors which seemed to stretch for miles were lined with suits of armour positioned periodically along the halls. Banners, tapestries, coat of arms - each whispering of their place in Azeroth's history, adorned the passageways.

Enormous life-sized portraits of the House of Wrynn were suspended on the walls which led to the royal private quarters. She marvelled at the stoic nobles in all their finery as they held themselves in the most archetypal poses. Names which she was vaguely familiar with were finally given faces.

She listened politely as Anduin delivered a detailed genealogy starting with King Landen, who ruled the human nation of Azeroth prior to the opening of the Dark Portal. It was his Court Conjurer, a certain Nielas Aran, who fell for the charms of the Guardian Aegwynn. Their dalliance begat Medivh, who later became Khadgar's mentor.

Sarah fought to hide the smile which crept upon her face at the mention of the silver-haired Archmage. The young Prince coughed politely into his hand as he too tried to conceal a smile; his assumptions of the "relationship" between the alien woman and the Archmage having just been confirmed.

Next he gestured to the images of King Adamant III and Queen Varia, parents of Llane I. Sarah was at least more familiar with King Llane and his Queen, Taria, not only from her reading some of the lore but also from the movie version of Warcraft. Not that she was going to mention that particular transgression. A few speculative connections from Warner Bros was not a discussion she wished to embark upon. At least, not with the next heir to the throne.

This of course led to his father, Varian and Queen Tiffin, his mother. Sarah smiled warmly at the portrait. They were such a handsome couple. Varian did not have his facial scar at that time and he was younger, perhaps even a little roguish looking. The artist had captured a definite glint in his eyes. Queen Tiffin on the other hand was a striking woman. Not your typical noble beauty, but she would nevertheless have held your attention in her day. Wearing a plum coloured gown, and with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, she stood next to Varian, her hand resting delicately on his forearm. Her green eyes looked straight ahead, and fixed the viewer with a gentle, yet insightful stare.

It suddenly came to Sarah's attention that the Prince had fallen silent. She turned to face him and noticed he looked longingly at the portrait in front of them. Sarah was aware that his mother had been slain by the Stonemasons guild who rebuilt Stormwind after the city's decimation in the Second War. Furious that their contract was not honoured by the nobles and therefore their pay not forthcoming, the guild rioted. One of the casualties had been Anduin's mother. She took a rock to the head when it was thrown at the deceptive nobles. Ironically, she had been one of the few who had fiercely advocated the Stonemasons be paid their dues. The guild disbanded shortly thereafter and later became the Defias Brotherhood, led by the notorious Edwin VanCleef.

Anduin, too young to truly remember those events nonetheless bore witness to the devastating effect Tiffin's death had on his father. Instinctively, Sarah reached out and placed her hand on the young Prince's arm. Anduin turned his blue eyes towards her. He forced a smile, but she could see the tears brimming behind his fair lashes. "Forgive me Sarah," the teenage noble uttered. "I was lost in thought."

Sarah smiled wistfully and glanced back at the portrait. "Sometimes, your Highness, it is the best place for one to be lost." She faced Anduin once more and found him smiling a little. After a moment, she broke contact, stricken with embarrassment that she had dared touch the Prince unbidden. She clasped her hands behind her back and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"I like you, Sarah Metcalfe," Anduin said suddenly. She looked up in surprise. He afforded her an official bow. "I do believe we will be great friends. And as such, I ask that you simply call me Anduin."

Sarah's mouth fell open. "Your Highness, I – I could not possibly …" she stuttered.

"I insist!" he replied. Then, with a great beam of a smile he added, "And should you still be in doubt, then consider it a royal command."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile matched his. "Very well, Your –" She winced and corrected herself in the next breath. "Anduin!"

They shared a few moments laughter. A peel of bells announced it was close to dinner time. "Ah. Dinner!" Anduin enounced. He gestured back along the hall and fell into step beside his guest. "I think we shall have an informal meal Sarah, if you are agreeable?"

"I like informal," she nodded.

"Good! Then we will go ask cook to serve up a few platters of sinfully good savouries and some deliciously wicked desserts."

"Sounds good to me."

They sat on the floor in front of a roaring fire in one of the day rooms. Spread out between them were a variety of wonderful dishes. Spiced meat pasties, ham and egg pies, crusty bread, a fine aged cheddar and pickles. Amazing fruit tarts and chocolate cake were their sweet treats. Anduin had also uncorked a vintage wine and poured them both a generous measure. Sarah eyed her goblet warily. She could not afford to let this go to her head. The adverse affect of too much alcohol was a runaway mouth – the very last thing she wanted in front of the Prince. Anduin looked at Sarah askance. "You do not like wine?"

She smirked. "Oh I like it fine Anduin, but I'm not too sure it likes me."

"Then we shall take small sips and eat plenty."

"Sounds like a plan," she affirmed.

As they dined, he asked her to describe where she came from. He listened avidly as Sarah talked. To her, her hometown was nowhere near as beautiful as Stormwind and Dalaran, it was dull in comparison. But, she complied with his request and spoke at length about Scotland and neighbouring countries.

He loved hearing about the different places she had visited in her world; Greece, Italy, Spain, Norway. Their mythology enthralled him. She could not help but smile at the Prince's enthusiasm.

She also spoke of her friends and her family, though the latter were distant. Even Pete, her ex-husband was given a mention, albeit very brief. All in all, she tried desperately to talk of absolutely anything other than World of Warcraft. Odd, considering it was a main topic of conversation with her friends back home. Here however, she avoided it, for she did not want to fall into the trap of revealing what was going to happen on the Broken Shore. Nonetheless, the Prince broached the subject.

Deftly, she attempted to steer the conversation away from the current timeline. She admitted she had created Horde characters and engaged in quests from Mulgore, to Quel'thalas and Undercity to Grom'gol Base in Stranglethorn. Fortunately, this also captured Anduin's interest. She described places in Azeroth which even the Prince had never been to. Tales of orcs, trolls, undead, taurens, blood elves, fascinated him.

"So, which faction do you prefer then, Sarah?" he asked as he bit into another fruit tart.

"Why, Alliance, of course," she laughed and sipped her wine.

Anduin smirked, and expertly prevented a piece of the tartlet from falling out of his mouth in the process. "How very diplomatic." He commented mirthfully. Sarah grinned over the rim of her goblet. "Is that because of Khadgar, perhaps?" The Prince ventured.

She choked as some wine slipped down the wrong way. Anduin leaned over and patted her back until she recovered. A tight guffaw escaped her. "I do not believe a Prince of the realm was just patting my back to prevent me from choking."

Anduin cocked an eyebrow at her. "Hmm. And you are still trying to evade the question, I see?"

She studied his young face. His eyes sparkled in the glow of the firelight. For all he was merely seventeen, there was a maturity about him which could only be accredited to his lineage and upbringing. His likeability however, was all his own making. "No flies on you, eh?"

"What does that mean?" He was genuinely unfamiliar with the phrase.

"That you are very astute." Sarah explained.

"So, what the High Priestess said has truth?"

"Oh, you picked up on that part of our conversation, did you?" Sarah could not help but smile wider.

Anduin shrugged. "Yes, but it was really just confirming what I had already suspected the first day I saw you at court. He was very protective of you."

Sarah bit her bottom lip, unexpectedly feeling rather coy. "Perhaps he was just being kind on seeing I was frightened," she offered in way of explanation.

"Hmm, well I thought that to begin with, but then his mood when he returned from taking you to Dalaran made me think there was something more."

Sarah's interest was now piqued. "Oh? What was his mood?"

"He seemed distracted, and upset, perhaps angry. When I mentioned your name however, I could see something else in his eyes. I had never thought of the Archmage being capable of having feelings for someone, in a romantic sense, I mean."

So, Khadgar had felt for her even then. She had not misinterpreted things at all. He had fought the emotions just like in his journals and letters, it seemed. Still, it mattered not. Not now, that they had finally admitted how they felt. Her lips curved.

"You are thinking of him now I see," the Prince said unexpectedly.

Sarah blinked. "Why Anduin, you are making me blush."

"I apologise. And I note the hour is late. You must be tired."

"Yes, actually I am. I hope you won't be offended if I retire."

"Not at all. I will escort you to your room and bid you goodnight."

Once inside the chamber which had been prepared for her, she sat on the edge of the sumptuous bed. She felt completely drained. It had been exhausting trying to keep the conversation away from the very thing which was causing her tremendous sorrow. Anduin was indeed the epitome of a prince charming, and also very sharp, nothing seemed to escape his notice. Which was why all day long, although she thought she had disguised it well, her insides had been a bundle of nervous knots.

With a deep sigh, she rose and crossed the vast chamber to the window. The moon was full and high, casting its mournful glow on the lake below. She watched as the breeze caused the moonlit reflection to ripple across the surface. Although she tried to avoid it, she could not help but wonder if the terrible tragedy had occurred yet. She leaned heavily against the window frame. Tomorrow was going to be a dreadful day.

Drinking in the view across the city, it dawned on her that the knowledge which she came armed with, would shortly be redundant. History. The series of events were rapidly reaching a close. What was to happen to her once the battle at the Broken Shore was over? She had no knowledge what the next patch would be. Realisation that her role, so-to-speak was fast approaching the end of its usefulness, if indeed it had ever been so in the first place, was filling her with dread. Would she simply fade from the land of Azeroth? Perhaps she would become nothing more that some irrelevant NPC. Or would she finally, somehow, go home?

Her time in Stormwind and the stunning Dalaran, had been something she would take with her wherever she ended up. The people and places had all felt very real, tangible. The three weeks alone in Dalaran actually felt like that; a span of realtime which she would always be able to recount. She would relive every day, every sight, sound and smell. She would remember her new friends at A Hero's Welcome including the amorous Tassarion. She hoped they would all be safe when the war got underway.

Although she tried not to think about it, it was nonetheless dawning on her that time was running out. This was a bittersweet place to be right now. If she mulled it over, it would drive her insane.

But what of Archmage Khadgar? There lay her greatest fear. Where was he now? Her feelings for him seemed - no - they were very real indeed. Was he perhaps thinking of her now, as she did him?

She turned from the window and readied for bed. As her head nuzzled into the plump pillows, the memory of Dalaran and Khadgar's arm sliding around her waist, pulling her to him, flooded her mind. Inhaling, she imagined she could smell his cologne; a subtle hint of spice and some exotic fragrance which was utterly masculine, alluring beyond words. Closing her eyes, she touched her mouth, embracing the memory of his kiss.

With a deep sigh, she rolled over and stared out of the open window. Wrapping her arms round one the pillows, she pulled it close, hugging it tightly. A hunger washed over her, fierce, intense, unyielding. Would this be a yearning which could never be fulfilled?

Chewing the inside of her lip, she knew she had to stop thinking this way. Tomorrow it would all vanish. It would turn out to have been nothing more than an overactive imagination, registering within the brain of a comatose patient in a hospital bed.

Yet, in her mind, for all she knew none of this was real, her heart argued fiercely, that it was as true as it could possibly be.


	12. THE HOME-COMING

It was mid-morning when Sarah was woken by the distant sound of engines. She sprang out of bed and rushed to the window.

"Oh no!" she breathed. The King's gunship was hovering over the harbour, heavily damaged on the port side. This could only mean one thing. It had all went as depicted in the game. The King was dead.

A loud knock came to her door causing her to jump. Her heart hit the floor. She knew she was being summoned.

Facing the Prince would be agonising. Not only because of the heartbreak she would see in his eyes, but he was bound to realise that she had known of the outcome all along. All at court would now be baying for her blood. They would no doubt blame her for this tragedy.

She could hear their accusations in her head. "Why did you not forewarn us of this?" "We could have prevented it if you had told us." "Ah, but you didn't believe me did you?" she imagined herself replying. "You thought I was lying, making it up. Mad!" 

She shook her head. There was not a chance of her being sassy at such a desperately sorrowful time. Almost trying not to think of it, however, her mind said one last thing - "I told Khadgar. He knew." She clasped a hand to her mouth. 

That was verging on blame and most definitely a betrayal of the man she had come to care for very deeply. Those were words she would never utter for fear of them being misconstrued.

She envisioned Anduin's face as he sat on the throne awaiting her to speak up in her defence. The pain in his eyes would be unbearable to witness. Guilt engulfed her. It made matters all the worse to think she spent the day before enjoying the Prince's hospitality pretending that such an execrable event was not looming.

The knock came again, more forceful this time. She could not evade this. There was no point trying to drag it out.

Opening the door, she was met by one of the King's Guard. "You are required in the throne room, Miss Metcalfe." That was all he said before turning and standing to wait at her door.

She struggled to get dressed, her limbs feeling heavy as if they were physically burdened by the guilt she bore. Her stomach lurched, her head pounded, her heart ached. This was excruciating. Witnessing the virtual brutal murder of King Varian had been horrific enough. Now she had met the man in person, had befriended his son and accepted royal hospitality - and she had shamefully let him die for real. Wracking sobs grated her throat. She desperately tried not to dwell on how he died. A reality version of the video game would be too gruesome.

After painstakingly brushing her hair, she took a few moments to compose herself. With one last look in the mirror and patting down the skirts of her dress, she opened the door. The guardsman instantly stood to attention and in customary military fashion, turned right. She followed him through the corridors. The halls were lined by Stormwind guards.

She had thought it would be a private audience she was being summoned to, perhaps after which she would be cast into the Stockade with other undesirables. To her added dismay, however, as they drew nearer to the centre of the Keep, she found battle-weary heroes also filled the rooms and halls. Blood stained warriors, hunters, shamans, mages and paladins all stood silently, respectfully.

She was relieved to see Vindicator Ocel among them. Even though she did not know him well, she was glad he was safe for Lukha's sake.

On seeing her approach, the Draenei offered a small nod in her direction before looking sharply away. Sarah wondered if such a curt acknowledgement was dismissive, an inability to look at her for longer than necessary. Had he heard of the outcome from Khadgar, perhaps? They were good friends after all. Did he blame her for the death of the King? Silently, she turned her eyes to the front again. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribs. Her feet felt heavier with every step as if she was dragging her way through mud and it was solidifying around her ankles.

The way ahead opened into the throne room. As she reached the last doorway, she faltered. Insurmountable grief washed over her. Wracking sobs tore her very being. She tried desperately to keep them under control, but then her knees buckled. She truly wished that somehow, she would be pulled back to her own world and time right now.

She felt a strong hand take her arm. "Why do you cry, Sarah?"

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. Several in fact. That voice! She recognised that voice. Was it remotely possible? Blinking the tears from her eyes, slowly, she looked up.

King Varian Wrynn stood over her. His armour was bloodied, caked in dirt, battered. But he was whole. Alive. She blinked again and rubbed her eyes. He pulled her up gently. 

Prince Anduin came to her other side and helped his father escort her to the front of the throne dais. The atmosphere in the room, though subdued was one of immense relief at the Alliance King's survival.

Sarah stood, catching her breath, trying to find her voice. She felt someone move close beside her. It was Lukha. The young Draenei smiled fondly and took hold of her arm offering support. Sarah's mouth quivered. With a subtle gesture, Lukha indicated she address the King. Sarah nodded in acquiescence.

King Varian stood at the bottom of the dais to the throne. With one foot on the bottom step, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, Shalamayne, he watched the alien woman with quiet regard. The corners of his mouth betrayed a subtle smile.

Curiously, the phenomenal amount of relief coursing through her veins made words very difficult to come forth. But, finally, she found her voice. "Your - Your Majesty, I am ...so glad to see you have returned. You have no idea..."

"Oh, but I do. And all thanks to you, Sarah Metcalfe." King Varian intervened. "For without your unique knowledge and what you revealed to Khadgar, I would not be standing here now."

Khadgar had acted upon her warning? "But he ... he..." she recalled him saying he would not dissuade the King from his duty. She was unsure how to follow through for she did not want to imply that the Archmage had been reluctant to intervene. "Did he persuade you not to go to Broken Isles?" she asked.

Gesturing to the condition of his armour, Varian laughed, but not to mock her. Sarah dropped her eyes to the floor, instantly embarrassed at the stupidity of her question. "He could not, Sarah" the King replied kindly. "My place is with my men. But, he teleported me out after the felreaver you described was defeated."

Sarah exhaled loudly. Relief clearly written on her face. Why on Azeroth didn't Blizzard come up with that one, she thought? A repeat basically of the battle against Blackhand, when the Archmage teleported Yrel and Durotan from the deck of the exploding ship. Thankfully, this "real" version of Warcraft had individuals who had applied such logic and strategy.

Finally, she was able to smile. She had done what she said would when she and Drew watched the cinematic of the Broken Shore. She had changed the storyline. In her relief, she turned to face the wounded soldiers and brave heroes filling the room. Unexpectedly, they cheered as she met their gazes. It was an incredibly overwhelming moment. She felt surprisingly foolish and a tad pleased with herself at the same time.

"I, and the people of the Alliance thank you, Sarah Metcalfe. You have granted us time to muster our forces and plan better to defeat the Legion."

She curtsied deeply. As she rose, she stilled in front of the King.

"What is it, Sarah?" he asked, noting her hesitation.

"I was wondering, Your Majesty," she began. "Where is Khadgar now?"

With a small smile at the corner of his mouth, the King replied quietly. "He is still on the Broken Isles."

Sarah paled, her breathing rapid once more. Varian noted the panic in her eyes. "He is aiding Maiev Shadowsong with the release of the demon hunters. The Illidari are indeed going to assist in this war. Again, because of something you foretold. He will be with us soon, fear not"

She sighed relief. For one painstaking moment, she had considered that if the King's standing there was a sign that things had changed through her intervention, then anything could be possible. Even Khadgar's demise. Inwardly she shuddered. It was not a possibility she wished to dwell on. She thanked Varian for the information.

With Lukha still at her side, she stepped away from the throne. Anduin walked over to join her. He escorted the women to the side and was whispering to Sarah, enquiring if she needed anything when she caught snippets of a conversation.

A woman's voice, one she did not recognise, was speaking earnestly with the King. She was voicing, quite fervently, the need to rally forces. Her focus, however, was to attack the Horde for their treachery on the Broken Shore. Sarah knew who the woman was before she even saw her. Anduin followed Sarah's gaze.

"That's Lady Jaina Proudmore," he said. "She has just arrived from the battlefront."

"Thank you, Your Highness. I gathered it was her."

"Of course you did, how stupid of me," Anduin smirked, feeling a little ridiculous, having stated the obvious to this Earthling gamer.

Sarah laid a reassuring hand on the young Prince's arm, and lightly shaking her head, ensured he knew she did not think him foolish.

Her attention was drawn back to Jaina. She observed the woman, who was very animated in her delivery. Sarah thought that the woman's over-zealous gesturing and gradual increase of vocal pitch would have been deemed disrespectful in front of the monarchy. But, then she reminded herself that the woman had been named surrogate god-mother to Prince Anduin. Such behaviour perhaps, under the circumstances at least, may, therefore, be tolerated.

The king was reiterating that the priority was to focus on the Burning Legion, there would be time to question the Horde's treachery at a later date. Jaina counteracted his abstinence reminding him it was logical to assume that the Horde would not be aiding them in the war against the demons. They may well turn their focus upon the Alliance instead, as they normally did. Varian huffed and waved his hand dismissively.

The Leader of the Kirin Tor was not about to be disregarded so easily. She moved forward, planting the base her staff firmly on the step beside the King, a gesture which could have conveyed as aggressive and threatening in normal times. Varian however, sighed and looked askance at the raving woman.

"Mark my words Varian, Vol'jin will march against us, most likely when we are otherwise engaged in battle with the Burning Legion. He will weaken our resolve."

"Jaina, they are as much at threat from the Legion as are we. Whatever drove them to desert us will be investigated at another more opportune time. For now…"

"We may not have another opportune time! That Forsaken bitch, Sylvanas, will not hesitate to take up arms against us."

Sarah had hoped that as King Varian was safe, the subject of the Horde's betrayal would not have been open for debate. She forgot about Lady Proudmore's unforgiving hatred for them.

Sarah's knowledge of the reason behind the Horde's departure was all she had left in offering some sort of aid to the predicament facing all of Azeroth. Perhaps, they would listen one more time. She tentatively moved back towards the throne. The imposing Leader of the Kirin Tor caught her movement and turned to face her.

"Ah. Khadgar's ... friend, I presume?" Her words were laced with a generous sprinkling of scorn. "Have you something to contribute on this matter also?"

Powerful women in this world really didn't seem to take to Sarah. For a second she conjured up an image of Tyrande and Jaina using her for target practice. She visualised herself dodging arrows and arcane bolts as she ran through Elwynn Forest, with them both in hot pursuit. 

But, she ignored the acidic tone of the Archmage. "Lady Proudmore," she began, a small bow afforded to Jaina. "With all due respect, our King is alive, should we not just be grateful for the time being?"

Jaina swept over, her robes curling around her slender frame. She towered over Sarah, and the icy eyes emphasised her condescension. "Our king, you say? You give yourself station which you do not have, nor deserve, Outsider."

There was a stirring in the crowd to her right. A most unexpected source of support came forward. "Jaina, I think we can overlook any claims, or indeed assumptions, of citizenship here." Tyrande glanced momentarily at Sarah before she refocused her attention on the imposing Archmage. "Sarah has a point, however. King Varian would not be here had it not been for her intervention." She stood, elegant, as always, between Sarah and Lady Proudmore. "It may be expedient to listen to what she has to say."

The blue eyes blazed. Jaina was obviously not accustomed to having her leverage brought into question by a mere peasant, particularly not one from another planet. "Very well," Jaina stepped back, but still she held Sarah with contempt. "Speak, but do not think for one moment that you are inherent to the King's ear."

Sarah told the court what she knew of the Horde's "treachery" from her experience with the game. Vol'jin had been mortally wounded. They were being flanked from behind and Vol'jin had told Sylvanas that she must not let the Horde die. Sylvanas had no option but to follow her Warchief's order, and so she sounded the retreat. It had not been intended as a betrayal to the Alliance.

The Archmage held her gaze for some considerable time. "It seems you share your lover's sympathies with the Horde, Outsider."

Sarah blanched at the venom in the woman's voice. Without another word, the Leader of the Kirin Tor teleported from the throne room.

There was an uncanny silence in the room. Many eyes upon her. And above those many eyes, were many raised eyebrows. What part were they shocked at most she wondered ... the part about the Horde, or about her and Khadgar being more than just friends?

Her eyes turned to King Varian. As always, his was the face of reason. "Thank you, Sarah," he uttered. "We were not aware of the circumstances which made the Horde retreat." He stepped down and came towards her. She held his gaze. "I will take counsel on this matter, but rest assured, you may well have helped prevent another disaster."

"Or caused one," Tyrande said. The High Priestess smirked. Varian's brow furrowed, his blue eyes boring into Tyrande.

Sarah's perplexed expression made the Kaldorei leader rethink her response. "I meant that Jaina is a very strong-willed woman who does not like being challenged."

Sarah's mouth twitched. "I am not sure that is any more encouraging, High Priestess."

The night elf afforded a small smile. "You have done well Sarah Metcalfe and between our King – and Khadgar on your side…" Her silver orbs glinted a little brighter. "I am sure we will all work together and focus on what is important for our survival in these dire times."

Sarah glanced at King Varian and Tyrande. The woman had sounded sincere in her advocacy. "Thank you," she replied. "It is all I wish for. The survival of Azeroth."

She cleared her throat and with a quick curtsy hastily made her way back along the corridors, to her chamber. Only a short time ago, it had felt like she was walking the green mile along those corridors. Now, all had changed. Dramatically.

Once inside her room, she leaned heavily against the door. Her face broke into an enormous smile and a peculiar little sound rose from her throat – a squeal of glee. The king was alive! A completely different storyline had developed now. How could this be? She was in a virtual world, created by those from her own time and space. It was not possible. And yet -

Still, if this had been a dream all along, would it not have been more disjointed? Her time in this world had been fluent, no sudden ripples in the fabric, no distortions she could recall. Granted, it had been running almost parallel to the game, but now, it had veered clean away.

Maybe, just maybe, this was a very real place indeed.


	13. UNEXPECTED GUESTS

The court of King Varian had become warm and jovial the next day. Extra tables had been positioned within the banqueting hall and preparations were well in order for an evening's celebration. 

The royal household, in recognition of the brave souls who fought alongside their King, ordered a banquet and entertainment as a reward for their valiant efforts at the Broken Shore. As it would be sooner rather than later before the troops had to leave for war again, it was a more rushed affair than normal. But, the people of Stormwind were quick to rally for the festivities to be underway.

An overabundance of food was delivered to the kitchens and cooking and baking had started in the early morning. Wines and ales were carted in by the wagon load. Celebrations were being held all over the city, Varian having contributed much in the way of consumables. It was most likely to be one of the last enjoyable evenings for a very long time.

Entertainers such as jugglers, fire-eaters, rope walkers and jesters arrived from The Darkmoon Isle. They spread out through the city, bringing their entertainment to all who wished to see. 

Members of The Order of The Cloud Serpent from Pandaria also graced the festivities. They organised races around the city on their majestic flying serpents for those so inclined. Also invited to partake, were individuals who wished to demonstrate the skill and power of their own flying mounts against the Cloud Serpents. Floating hoops were suspended high above the cities buildings, forming the racecourse route. 

The events had many citizens excited and bets were being made with those who had eagerly offered up their bookmaking services.

The atmosphere in the city was light, airy. Underneath, however, lay a current of uncertainty. The times ahead were going to be harsh, strenuous, frightening and inevitably filled with much sorrow. It was therefore perhaps felicitous to have such an evening of merriment and solidarity.

Leaning out of her window, Sarah smiled as she heard the excitable chatter and chuckles of children. They were running around trying to find balloons which were hidden in various places throughout the city, including the Keep's gardens. Concerned mothers ran after them, making sure they did not misbehave while within the royal residence.

Elsewhere on the grounds, she caught a glimpse of one of the guards creeping around the northern wall near the library. Her brow creased, wondering what the man was up to. 

He stopped in front of a rose covered lattice. He reached up and very carefully snapped one of the roses off the wandering vine. Next, she saw him remove his helmet and hurriedly pat down his hair before he pressed his back up against the wall. Sarah shifted position a little to get a better look at what he was up to. 

A smile crept across her face as she saw a young woman appear from the opposite direction. As she levelled with the guard, he stepped in front of her. He presented her with the rose. The woman inhaled its scent. She glanced around as if checking the coast was clear then threw her arms around the guard's neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him.

Sarah sighed, leaning on her fist. Love's young dream. Her eyes drifted out over the sea beyond the walls of the Keep. Thoughts of Khadgar filled her mind. She considered what might have been had everything happened as it had in the game. If it were a true reflection, then she would not now be worrying about the Archmage's safe return. 

In the game, he came back safely having indeed aided in the release of the demon hunters. Now, however, with her altering the parallel world, it meant there were no guarantees that the rest of the plot would remain unaffected. She desperately wanted to see him safely back on these shores.

Her eyes drifted back to the young lovers on the northern edge of the gardens. They now sat on a stone bench, the guard kissing the woman's hand and whispering in her ear. Sarah vowed when Khadgar returned, she would show him how much she cared.

"I have to go now. I need to get home and get ready for this evening." Lukha's voice stirred Sarah from her reverie.

Standing back from the window, Sarah turned to her friend. "Will you be attending with your husband?"

Lukha lowered her head and shrugged. "Taril is visiting family at the Exodar along with my cousin Umrii and her husband Llhadral who travelled from Darnassus."

Sarah noted the disappointment in the young Draenei's voice. "Oh. I was looking forward to meeting him."

"Yes, I wanted you to meet too, but he is needed there. Another time, perhaps. Soon hopefully."

"Yes. Soon." Sarah crossed the room and hugged her.

The Draenei blinked surprise, but then smiled in understanding. "I will see you later then, Sarah." She turned and left the room.

The gentle click of the door closing made Sarah unexpectedly shudder. Try as she might, she could not shake the foreboding which niggled at the back of her mind. Perhaps the evening's festivities would help alleviate her worries. It was doubtful, but she must try. She was sorely tempted to look out the window again and across the sea. But what good would that do, she asked herself. He would return when he was able. He'd promised.

A soft knock at the door drew her attention back into the room. "Yes?"

A maid peered in around the door. "Miss Metcalfe, we have your bath water."

Sarah nodded and beckoned the maid inside. She was followed by half a dozen other servants carrying large buckets of water between them. She watched as they moved through to the rear of the chamber and poured the hot water into a decorative tub. The maid opened a bottle of scented oil and poured a few drops in.

"Is that…?" Sarah began pointing at the bottle.

The maid smiled sweetly. "Yes Miss, it is the honeysuckle and wild lotus you requested."

"Thank you," Sarah said.

"Will you require me to assist you to bathe?"

It was something she had not even considered. Nor was it a service she required. "No, thank you, I will manage."

The maid signalled for the others to leave. They collected their empty buckets and promptly left the room. The maid curtsied and followed the others. At the door, she turned. "I will return in an hour Miss Metcalfe, to help with your gown."

Sarah sighed. She would have to follow etiquette and squeeze into a corset again. She nodded, reluctantly. "What is your name?" she asked the maid.

"Rowena," she replied.

"What a lovely name," Sarah commented.

"Thank you, Miss Metcalfe."

"My name is Sarah, please call me by it."

The maid nodded, her face clearly indicating that she was honoured to be asked to call a guest of the House of Wrynn by their first name. She curtsied once more before she backed out of the room, closing the door as she exited. Sarah moved over and turned the key.

Slipping out of her gown, she stepped into the warm, fragrant water. She relaxed against the backrest and stared at the soft ripples resulting from her breathing and slight movements.

She cast her mind back over the weeks she had been in Azeroth. With all that had happened and the time that had passed, this could not possibly be a dream. Nor, she thought, could it be the workings of a comatose patient. This had to be real. The series of events were too fluid, too concise to be that of erratic thought processes.

Everything she had experienced was tangible, real, substantial. She had relished the foods, savouring their flavours, spices and smells. Her tour of Stormwind with Lukha had been real. She had been guest to Prince Anduin and King Varian, again very authentic. 

Her stay in Dalaran – mixed feelings about that, she smirked. But, she had interacted with a number of individuals since arriving in Azeroth all of which were living, breathing people. She had even kissed a couple! She chuckled a little remembering Tassarion. Such a likeable Elf, but inclined to be a bit full on at times.

As for Khadgar. He had won her over very early on. She made a small contented sound and sank deeper into the tub. Closing her eyes, her lips curved into a soft smile. Being completely honest with herself, even before she'd found his journals and letters, she knew she was smitten. You don't get that mad at someone if you don't care deeply about them, she reasoned. And boy was I mad at him! 

She laughed quietly to herself. Her mind played back their street squabble and then the moment he pulled her close and kissed her. Some rather delicious sensations were starting to develop in her lower abdomen. Pinching her nose, she slid under the water and continued her bathing regime.

Later, duly strapped into her corset, she allowed Rowena to help slip the finest silk gown over her head. It was a vibrant emerald green, edged in gold embroidery with a detailed bodice. 

She donned soft, comfortable emerald slippers. With her hair swept up in loose folds, adorned with strands of beaded gossamer, Sarah liked the reflection looking back at her from the large mirror in her chamber. Every little girl's dream, she smiled. "I'm almost pretty."

The festivities had been going on for some time when she made her appearance in the banqueting hall. Anduin, as always the gracious young host, greeted her and led her to a seat he had reserved for her next to himself. Was this correct protocol, she wondered. A commoner in such close proximity to royalty? 

King Varian bowed his head in greeting. The look of approval over his scarred features confirmed she had spruced up quite impressively. That's good enough for me, she thought.

Lukha arrived, wearing an equally beautiful gown of lilac and silver. Sarah was then finally introduced properly to Vindicator Ocel. The Draenei was utterly charming and very funny as he related one or two tales of his and Khadgar's past shenanigans. It was nice to know that Khadgar hadn't always been the serious Archmage with a staff stuck up his ass, as portrayed in the game. "And how have you found your stay with us Sarah," Ocel asked, his eyes twinkling.

She could not hide the smirk. "Well, it has been … uplifting, shall we say."

The Draenei laughed loudly at her metaphorical take on being stuck on the floating rock, Dalaran. "Well, I hope you gave him a slap for that misdemeanour." He lifted his goblet.

"Oh, I did! Quite hard actually," she replied, snickering into her wine.

Ocel spluttered in mid-drink. He snatched a napkin to wipe his mouth and dab his shirt. Lukha just shook her head at her uncle's debacle. Sarah's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"I do declare, you are what the man needs," Ocel said leaning towards Sarah.

His niece overheard and duly chastised him for being so blunt. He feigned remorse. "I have known the man for many years", he explained quite shrewdly. "And I have never seen him so befuddled over anyone before."

Sarah's face bore a hint of subtle precipitousness. "Befuddled?" she asked.

"Why yes," Ocel confirmed. "He is an Archmage – a career choice in which such individuals think they know it all. It is good to see him confused." The blue-skinned Draenei grinned.

This time Sarah laughed out loud. "Well, I hope I do not just confuse him, for that could be disastrous."

The paladin looked at Sarah for a long moment, his face adopting a serious countenance. "Oh, I do not think you have any worries of that nature, Sarah. The confusion he feels is good, healthy, for it means he is open to learning something new. Something, I believe, perhaps only you can teach him."

She stared up into the still sparkling eyes of the paladin. She could see he cared very much for the Archmage. He had his best interests at heart. Ocel was a confidante, a trustee, an advisor and an invaluable friend of Khadgar's. She responded with a simple smile.

"Ocel!" A rather raspy voice sounded. The paladin turned to greet Genn Greymane. The monarch of the Worgen society stood, hands behind back looking up at the Draenei, then his eyes were drawn to Sarah as introductions were made. 

His mouth was set in a thin line, yet not unfriendly. A steadfast friend and dedicated ally to the King of Stormwind, Genn was an individual who you wanted to shield your back. You wouldn't want to see me when I'm angry, spilled into her mind. She had to suppress a giggle at the words which the game of Warcraft had adopted as a worgen catchphrase. 

He made polite conversation mainly with Ocel though his eyes often wandered over to Sarah. She felt he was quietly assessing whether she could be truly trusted or not. Mannerly and pleasant enough, she was nonetheless relieved when he left their company to mingle with others.

Tyrande and Malfurion, seemingly inseparable (maybe the priestess was afraid he would fall asleep again, Sarah mused) were also in attendance. 

As always, the High Priestess was a stunning woman to behold and she moved among the people with an unparalleled grace and dignity. Watching her from the corner of her eye, Sarah found it hard to imagine Tyrande as the bow wielding huntress, but she was indeed a warrior woman, at least was of days gone by. Now she was leader of her people, the night elves, as well as being High Priestess of Elune. She passed by Ocel, Lukha and Sarah, affording them all a respectful inclination of her head.

Her lover, Malfurion, was close behind. It was not until that moment that Sarah realised just how enormous the druid truly was. 

Towering above even Ocel, the night elf stood close to seven feet tall. He had adopted certain characteristics which his chosen path of learning and station inculcated. As Archdruid, the night elf's appearance was almost that of a hybrid of sorts. Antlers protruded from his skull, adding to his already considerable height. Feathers indicative of a kaldorei eagle fluttered from his shoulders, elbows and wrists. 

His legs, covered in fur and cloven-hooved represented the stag, one of the spirit beasts appertaining to the druids devotion to the balance and preservation of all nature. A waistband made from vines, leaves and twigs hung from his broad hips. He rustled passed slightly more aloof than his spouse but he acknowledged the group in a similar manner as Tyrande.

The music and frivolity was soon in full swing, and Sarah was invited to dance by quite a few of the male guests. That was fine when it was someone same height or taller, but a tad more awkward with the dwarves unless she broke into her version of Riverdance with them. By all accounts that got a pretty good response from everyone in the hall and added to the cheer and gaiety of the evening. 

It certainly made her laugh and for a while eased her deep-rooted concerns for a certain Archmage.

A sudden clambering peppered with sounds of surprise and shock came from the far reaches of the hall. The huge Ashenvale Oak doors had swung open and it seemed, from the crowd's reaction, a contingent of unexpected guests had just arrived. 

The music died and the hilarity of party-goers gradually ceased.

Sarah strained to see past some of the guests. On her tip-toes, she struggled to ascertain the cause of the commotion. She pressed her way through, politely, until she met the focus of everyone's attention.

Khadgar! A little worse for wear, he stood in front of the King at the top table. She gasped, seeing how tired he looked. It took all of her strength to stay where she was. There was no mistaking this was a monumental moment.

The people herded a little closer together as Khadgar's voice echoed through the hall. "Your Majesty, I present to you, the Illidari." He swept an arm behind him, and everyone followed the gesture.

There standing a few feet behind the Archmage was a troop of Demon Hunters. Shocked faces stared at them. Some guests recoiled at the sight of their tattooed skins, empty eye-sockets and demonic disfigurations. 

Others, were mildly curious, wanting to move nearer, but reluctant to do so. And, one or two fainted from shock, including a male night elf, whose noticeably embarrassed friends tried to subtly hide him below one of the tables by nudging him under with their feet.

Sarah was in awe of the Illidari. To her, they were utterly magnificent but also desperately tragic. She edged further forward through the party-goers, although they now huddled so close together it was almost suffocating. People weren't for budging, so she pressed a little harder until, quite unexpectedly, they parted and she shot out in front of the crowd.

One of the Demon Hunters, a female, snapped her head round at the sound of the scuffle. She instantly adopted a defensive stance. Her fel-infused eyeless sockets rippled green and her tattoos flared bright. 

Her movements were interpreted as a warning by the captivated audience. A synchronous intake of breath ran round the hall like a Mexican wave. 

The Demon Hunter tilted her head from side to side as she looked in Sarah's direction. Sarah felt like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights, terrified to even breathe. Uncertain what to do, and not wanting to cause any further alarm, she slowly melted back into the crowd. 

A quick glance, once safely behind a very tall Draenei, assured her that the demon hunter no longer considered her a potential target dummy. The one-time Night Elf had resumed her impassive stance. All had occurred in the mere seconds. Sarah finally remembered she could breathe now.

On Khadgar's signal, one of the Illidari approached the table where the King sat. He was a blood elf. Tall and muscular although a bit leaner than that of his counterpart night elf companions, he was nonetheless a wondrous sight. 

Considering an insane passage of time in confinement, he stood poised, impressively confident and self- assured, before the Alliance King. Varian Wrynn eyed the elf warily but bade him welcome. The blood elf demon hunter curtly nodded in response.

Khadgar made the introductions. "This is Kayn Sunfury, Your Majesty, and he and his fellow Illidari have sworn to help us in the battle against the Burning Legion." Sarah knew that these exquisite beings would not bow to any leader, other than their own, Lord Illidan. Yet, here they were, unbelievably, standing in front of the King of Stormwind, swearing fealty to the Alliance.

The King rose and moved round the table to stand next to Kayn. "You have our gratitude, Kayn Sunfury. I am confident our combined efforts will defeat the common enemy."

The Demon Hunter's face was unreadable. "You have truly no concept of the monstrous power the Legion possesses, King Varian of Stormwind. You were warned once before of its voracious appetite for destruction, but you did not listen. Your Alliance' arrogance thought you knew better."

Eyes widened at the Demon Hunter's audacity to judge the King. Stormwind guards inched forward, hands readied on hilts. The demonic ensemble responded in kind, their warglaives ready to slice open anyone who threatened their appointed leader. 

Without breaking eye contact with the Elf, a simple gesture from King Varian had his men fall back into formation. Kayn mirrored the action. His demon hunters relaxed.

Sarah watched with baited breath. No Alliance King would bow to a Demon Hunter neither, but she witnessed a silent acceptance and respect flow between King Varian and Kayn Sunfury of the Illidari.

"Lord Illidan knows the way," Kayn said, then the troop of demon hunters turned in unison and he led his people from the banquet hall.

Everyone seemed to suddenly exhale. Varian leaned to Khadgar. "You sure know how to make an entrance>" A slightly nervous smirk played on his lips.

Khadgar managed a weary grin. "They are brave and honourable fighters Varian, and they have endured much. I think we can consider ourselves fortunate to have so much as their tolerance. For now however, they need to regain some strength, so I have arranged for them to settle in the Mage Quarter. The innkeeper of The Slaughtered Lamb owes me a favour."

King Varian laughed softly. "Well I reckon he will have no better luck keeping them from wandering the city, as he did a certain young woman."

Khadgar's mouth gave way to a smirk, but his eyes remained watching the retreating troupe of Illidari.

"Talking of which," Varian whispered, turning to the Archmage and drawing his attention. "She has a room located on the west side. Second corridor after the library." With that he grinned and nodded good evening. Retaking his seat at the table Varian ordered the festivities to continue.

Khadgar momentarily flushed. He stood still for a moment, not quite sure what to do with himself. A hint of a grin tweaked the corners of his mouth. 

It appeared that both Varian and Ocel were determined he get to "know" Sarah better.

As the music and frivolity started to resume the crowd also began to disperse around the hall in groups. The floor in front of him was emptying steadily. He raised his eyes. And there she was. Standing in a beautiful emerald gown, her cheeks glowing and eyes bright. His breath caught in his throat as she almost floated towards him.

Gently she took his hand. It was strange, but he found himself trembling – albeit with anticipation. His heart pounded as she sweetly smiled. 

With an unspoken understanding, they turned and she led him from the hall.


	14. TRACES OF GUL'DAN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mature content of a sexual nature.

The veil of night's embrace slipped slowly over the horizon and a new day was born. Warm golden rays of the sun spread over the sleeping city of Stormwind, her flora and fauna being the first to answer the early morning call.

Some of the residents started to stir. At first subtle murmurs were heard on the streets of Stormwind. 

Civilians had begun cleaning up the remnants of the previous night's festivities. That included one or two inebriated bodies curled up in shop doorways and along alleys. The woozy party-goers once roused from their stone bunks, staggered their way along the streets. 

Some made their way home singing enjoying another slug of whatever liquid refreshment they had managed to covet during the night. Others, looking a little green around the gills, shuffled along in silence feeling worse with every step. 

The odd chorus about a boy named "Ralph" or "Hewie" was sung into the canals and offered a somewhat varied breakfast for the fish, gulls and rodents.

Those who had businesses to run went about their duties with the same diligent constancy as they did any other day. Before long, the coastal city was once more preparing for the exchange and commerce which would pass through its gates or arrive by ship. Stalls, shops, banks and auction houses all readied for the start of another busy day of trading.

The Keep was no different from the rest of the city in as much as staff had already been up and busying themselves from early in the morning. Theirs was the task of cleaning and tidying nearly every room in the royal residence.

Sarah listened to the distant sounds of industrious servants as minuscule dust particles floated on the sun's rays which reached into her bedchamber through the open window. A soft breeze rippled the delicate voiles opening the way for the particles to be buffeted and thrown into a swirling dance. 

She watched their ballet and sighed softly. The rays caressed the walls and floor and crept up to greet her as she lay on her side, propped on her elbow.

Her gaze turned to the sleeping figure beside her. For a long while, she simply watched his chest as it rose and fell in perfect peace. She marvelled at the gentleness of his features as he slumbered. 

Removed from the daily concerns and responsibilities of being Archmage, his face had a very youthful glow, all lines of worry and hard work banished. His hair, in the now customary tousled style, seemed to have regained some of its long-lost vitality. She smiled. Perhaps it was due to all the blissful intimacy of last night.

While at the banquet, during the demon hunters' departure, she had found Rowena and asked her to have the bathtub in her chamber filled with hot water and some aromatic oils. A large platter of food was also required. 

The maid followed Sarah's gaze as she voiced her request, and smiled secretly to herself. She nodded then disappeared to rally some servants to help.

Sarah's focus honed in on the Archmage. He stood at the far side of the main table, looking somewhat in a dither. Sarah smiled. Ocel's earlier conversation about Khadgar being befuddled came to mind. It was time to leave the festivities. She was going to ensure Khadgar was well looked after and ease his troubled mind.

As she'd approached him, she'd noticed the tightness in his jaw, the twitch at the corners of his mouth. His eyes instantly darkened with desire as he caught sight of her. She reached out and took his hand. Silently, she led him through the Garden of Contemplation, past the library and into the corridor where her chamber was located.

Having emptied the hot contents of the buckets into the waiting tub, Rowena was ushering the last of the serving girls from the room as Sarah and Khadgar arrived. The girl was heard giggling as she ran along the corridor with her co-workers. Sarah couldn't suppress a smile.

With a soft click, she locked the door. Khadgar had remained silent, his breathing deep. The effort to appear calm faltered as she neared. 

She gently took his staff and placed it to one side. Glancing up into his steel-grey eyes she unfastened his armoured collar guard. It was heavier than she thought and awkwardly, she nearly dropped it. He was quick to come to her aid. They shared a small ripple of laughter before he took it from her hands and laid it down on a nearby chair.

Once more standing in front of her, his eyes followed her expert fingers as she unfastened his belt, then his robe. Resting her hands on his chest, she paused a moment. Nerves suddenly washed over her. Swallowing quietly she slid the garment from him. 

He stepped out of his britches, casting them to the floor. Almost coyly, she interlocked her fingers with his and led him to the waiting bath.

As he reclined, arms resting on the edges of the tub, Sarah noted the extra candles on the floor around the sides and base. Seemed Rowena had known romance was in Sarah's mind.

She kneeled behind him and with the soft cloth tenderly started to bathe his battle-weary body. His shoulders were broad, powerful, but the muscles were taut from his hectic time in the Broken Isles. She massaged them working the knots from his tired shoulders and neck. He responded with a low moan. "That feels good," he murmured.

She smiled and whispered to him to relax. While she continued the massage, she studied his arms, relishing their strength, their form, the way the light from the candles reflected in the water trickling over them. She wrung the cloth over his shoulders again, allowing more rivulets of warm, scented water to trace down the planes of his chest. Silently, she watched their path, admiring the broad pectorals and ribbed abdomen. Several battle scars, of varying sizes, weaved their way across his skin. All were long-since healed but added to the allure of the man in the tub. Sarah's own body now responding to the sight and touch of his skin. Her breathing slowed, became heavy.

He relinquished his tired, aching body to the warm water and fragrant oils. Still, she kept her silence and moved round to his side. 

Taking a small pitcher she slowly poured some water over his hair, running her fingers through it, soothing his scalp. Meticulous in her care for him, she dabbed his face and smoothed his forehead with the cloth. 

She noted how he trembled at her touch. Strange how even the most powerful of men could be rendered helpless by a soft caress.

Her pupils aflame, she once more drank in the sight of his torso. Her fingers now worked their magic over his chest, caressing the scars and fine hair that covered his pectorals. She traced its tapering line where it stopped at the base of his sternum. Continuing down, her fingertips touched the ribbing of his abdominals. 

A sigh escaped her lips. Her hand hovered. His breath caught in his throat and with eyes lingering on her hand, he trembled, anticipating her next move. 

Her fingers continued beneath the waterline. Their eyes locked for a moment before her sensual touch awakened his desire. He moaned as blood flowed rapidly to his lower regions. Gently she stroked him, squeezing lightly, making him harder with every feathery touch.

She ran her tongue over her lips, the gesture exciting him even more. Her touch was sensual and intensely erotic. His hips rose to meet her downward motion. Another gentle moan escaped him. His eyes closed and his head lolled back on the rest. He surrendered entirely to the feel of her hand as she gently worked him. Involuntary shudders coursing through his body.

His lips, partially open, were too much for her resist. She leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his, fingers still pleasuring him under the water. 

His eyes opened as she pulled away slightly. "You had better take off that gown," he whispered feverishly. "Unless you want it ruined, for I'm about to pull you in here with me."

She smiled. "Do you wish me to stop?" she asked, indicating with her eyes where her hand still worked its magic under the water.

He grinned. "Not exactly, no. But I want more, Sarah. Much more." He reached out and stroked her cheek, running his thumb down over her bottom lip, gently forcing her mouth open. Her lips closed over his thumb. He sighed. Droplets of water glistened on her skin from his touch. "I want to make love to you," he breathed.

The smallest sound of disappointment then left his mouth as she retracted her hand from the water. But his eyes were rewarded with her rising and loosening the ties of her dress. Hungrily, he watched as the fabric fell to the ground. 

He looked up to find her smiling coquettishly. "You will have to help me out of this contraption," she said, indicating the corset. He laughed lightly before gesturing for her to turn around. He reached up and loosened the ties.

"I see you're quite adept at that," she teased over her shoulder.

"I had a little practice in years gone by."

Her shoulders quivered from her soft laughter. She turned to face him once more and let the corset slip from her frame. Then she stepped out of the cami-knickers.

His eyes drank her in. Lips parted slightly, his gaze followed the curve of her soft, full breasts and pert nipples. Glancing down his attention rested on the sweetest place between her thighs. 

She stepped closer. Taking his hand she placed it over her intimate area. She sighed as his fingers teased her with the gentlest of massages.

He groaned. "Get in here. Now!" His eyes were ablaze.

Holding out his other hand to steady her, she stepped into the tub. Straddling him, she enveloped him in her embrace, her mouth a mere breath from his. With one arm around her back he kept her close while his other adjusted himself for the moment she would accept him. 

She rose enough to accommodate his length then she sank onto him. A deep moan shuddered from her lips, her head lolled and she arched as she felt him enter her. One hand still supporting her back, his other cupped her breast. His lips were quick to follow and gently, he suckled her hard pink bud. 

She rode him slowly, enraptured by his closeness, his scent, the feel of his skin. His mouth moved to her other breast, tongue flicking and teasing her nipple. Her nails dug into his shoulders, just a little, as warm exquisite sensations started to escalate deep in her lower abdomen. He held her hips, guiding her, Setting the pace.

He looked up into her eyes. Sweet Elune, but she was beautiful. He watched as her lips parted and her breathing quickened. Their bodies rose and fell faster, the water lapping over the edges of the tub. The hiss of nearby candles being extinguished by a shower of droplets was lost amid the sounds of the couple's heated ebullience.

He whispered her name. His eyes closed as the moment for his release was imminent. Lifting her hips, he brought her down harder. His sensitivity was at its peak and he could feel her pulsing below as she sheathed him.

The orgasmic shudder then hit them both simultaneously. His love exploded forth and flowed inside her. He cried out gripping her tighter. 

Her body responded, a deep flush indicating her climax, her corresponding cry of anguish, shuddering as it gave way to a gasp. 

Arms wrapped tightly around each other, they remained as one until the final throes of ecstasy started to ebb. Their bodies surrendered to the small shudders of the aftermath.

She looked down into his eyes. Those silver orbs were black as night, fully dilated, pleading for more. Her mouth covered his and they shared an intensely deep kiss.

She pulled back a little. She smiled mischievously. "Perhaps you should rest now," she breathed.

"Maybe," he replied, his hands caressing the soft flesh of her back. "But, only after we do this a few times more." He grinned.

Her breathing now steady, her body flush having rescinded, she held his gaze. The Archmage was a playful lover it seemed and most definitely experienced, going by what they had just shared. 

She moved just enough to release him from within. He groaned. 

"The water will get cold though," she said, rising and stepping out of the tub. She threw teasing glances over her shoulder. 

He quickly followed her, water dripping from his frame as he left the tub. She turned to face him, walking back towards the freshly turned down bed.

"Then we will have to try somewhere else," he said as he closed the gap between them. He scooped her up in his arms and laid her gently on the bed. 

Kneeling over her, he pinned her arms above her head. She squealed with delight. His lips traced kisses over her throat and up to her ear. She trembled.

"Why Archmage! You are a naughty boy!" Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

"You have done this to me," he whispered, only millimetres from her ear. "And I am so glad you did." He continued nuzzling her, nibbling at the soft flesh of her neck, sending shivers of wanton desire through her again.

She coiled her legs around his and flipped him over. Once more straddling him she took pleasure pinning his arms to the pillows. He laughed lightly. She leaned down and kissed his brow, cheeks and down to his mouth and neck. 

She paused for a moment. His eyes were closed, a contented smile curving his lips. "Look at me," she whispered. "Watch me."

His eyes opened, feverish for her yet again. Her kisses travelled down, and further down still. She kept eye contact with him, then she hesitated. 

His breathing was deep, heavy, his body experiencing subtle quivers, as she hovered. With an utterly devilish smile, she lowered her head. He sank into the pillows and a deep moan left his mouth as she placed the most sensual of kisses below.

The Archmage did not have quite the amount of rest as he should have had that night.

**

Now he slumbered. Calm. Peaceful. Oblivious to the kingdom's troubles and the inevitable strife ahead. She so wanted to reach out and touch him. But she resisted, allowing him a few more minutes of much-deserved sleep.

Never, even in her wildest Warcraft fantasies had she ever thought she would end up falling for Khadgar. He had never captured her imagination in the game, for all he was an immensely influential figure. Here, however, he had become her rock, her protector, her friend and ultimately her lover.

He stirred, the morning sun just kissing his forehead and cheek. His eyes opened slowly. Looking up he smiled. After a moment he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good morning," he said, his voice husky, the dregs of sleep still lingering.

"Indeed it is," she smiled back.

Pushing himself up, he cradled her in one arm and kissed her gently before pulling her down with him. They lay quietly, encompassed in each other's arms, listening to the distant sounds of the waking city. Blissful, didn't come close to describing how she felt at that precise moment. She knew it would be short-lived.

As if reading her thoughts, he spoke softly. "I need to leave, Sarah. There is much I have to do."

"I know," she replied. "I know. Just swear you'll be careful."

She felt the low rumble of laughter in his chest, it spread through her like a ripple on a pond. "I will. Moreso now that I have you."

An unbidden sting of tears nipped at her eyes. His words were heartfelt. No-one had said anything like that to her before.

She watched him as he dressed. There was a sense of loss building in her chest. She could not explain nor understand it, but it had her on edge. "Where are you going?"

"We must first establish where the Legion is," he said, buckling the belt of his tunic. "And then we will send them back to the hell where they came from."

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "You make it sound so ... simple."

He stopped and looked across at her concerned face. In two strides he crossed to where she knelt on the bed. The sheet she'd clasped to her breast fell as her arms wrapped around his waist. 

His hands gently caressed the soft curves that had given him so much pleasure the night before. "Stay safe, Sarah. I will come back for you." Cupping her face, he leaned down and kissed her, deeply. He disentangled himself and started to the door.

"Stay clear of the fel," she said, almost choking on the words, clutching the sheet back to her chest.

"I intend to." He smiled, turned the handle and stepped out.

"Khadgar!" Her voice broke but it stopped him in his stride. They looked at each other, unspoken emotion swimming in their eyes. With a deep sigh, he closed the door behind him.

**

It was still early, but already the King and his advisors were gathering in the war room. Varian nodded welcome to Khadgar as he entered. "Sleep well?" he asked quietly of the Archmage with a knowing look.

Khadgar grinned and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Eventually." He replied.

Varian laughed lightly. "Good. To business then."

They studied the maps of the Eastern Kingdoms, positioning pins where reports had been coming in about demonic invasions. They ranged from neighbouring lands of Westfall to the pristine snows of Dun Murogh and the lush Hillsbrad Foothills in the north. The level of devastation to the populated areas had been brutal. The cost in life was high.

It was also reported the invasions were raging in Kalimdor in Azshara, Tanaris and Northern Barrens. The alliance forces on each continent were holding fast, but they were also suffering huge casualties. They would not be able to sustain constant attacks for much longer.

"Khadgar, did you not say something about some ancient artifacts we need to defeat the legion?" Varian asked.

"The Pillars of Creation?" He replied. "King Magni told us about them. They are believed to be somewhere on the Broken Isles. But finding them..."

"That is your task then, Khadgar." Varian looked him square in the eye. "Go speak with the Demon Hunters, they may be able to help."

Khadgar knew when he was dismissed. He bowed and turned to leave for the Mage Quarter.

Jarel, the innkeeper of The Slaughtered Lamb, stared angrily at the Archmage as he stepped through the door. "Never ask a favour of me again, Khadgar." He said, eyes wide. "Warlocks in the basement are bad enough, but ruddy half demon things as well?  _Never again_!"

Khadgar smirked. "Consider it more as recompense than a favour then Jarel, for your last bumbling attempt at watching over a guest of mine." He noted the innkeeper's hands furiously wiping a glass again. No clientelle, the Archmage mused, yet they must be the cleanest glasses in Azeroth. He ascended the stairs.

There were four rooms on the upper floor, and all were occupied by the demon hunters. The doors were open so it was easy for Khadgar to locate Kayn.

"Archmage," the blood elf greeted, with a curt nod.

"Kayn. Are you all rested? Have you eaten?"

"Yes, thank you."

One of the female demon hunters watched closely from across the room. She sniffed at the air. "Kayn!" she said. "I can sense it again. It is weaker, but nonetheless it is near."

The appointed leader of the demon hunters nodded.

"She senses  _what_ , exactly?" Khadgar asked.

"Traces of Gul'dan. Fel energy."

"Here? Now? I feel nothing." Khadgar's brow creased.

"Arcaena can track the fel. Her ability is manyfold more sensitive than that of a mere mage. She also sensed it last night in your King's keep."

"But - but how can that be? There are no demons in the keep, your spectral sight assured us of that." A sense of dread ran through the Archmage.

"None we could see, no. But still she sensed the fel magic."

"Well, are they making more portals? What does this mean?"

"We will find out in time. But, what have you come to ask of us, Khadgar."

Arcaena's revelation had Khadgar unnerved, but he proceeded to ask them about the Pillars of Creation. Kayn had heard of them, but knew not where they were other than located somewhere in the Broken Isles.

The Archmage was torn. He had been given an order by his King to find these fragmented pillars, yet this new threat had him greatly concerned. 

Kayn listened and agreed that he would leave a small group of his hunters in the city while the others would escort Khadgar in his search.

As he constructed the portal to Dalaran, Khadgar looked wistfully towards the keep. He hoped, prayed Sarah would be safe. 

Soulfully, he stepped into the portal, and his task began.


	15. HAPPY HUNTING

Sarah sat in bed, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, chin resting on knees. She thought of the passion she had shared with Khadgar; the way he'd kissed her, touched her, loved her. But the smile which curved her lips was tainted with worry. Staring out of the open window, she could not shake the sense of foreboding which simply refused to recede.

She had come to Azeroth armed with nothing but knowledge of the then, imminent future. That was now the past, and she had no idea what even the present would hold let alone the future.

She tried to think rationally. These people had been battling demons and foes of all descriptions for millennia; long before she'd arrived on their shores. It wasn't as if her presence had suddenly altered their ability to fight. 

She knew there were immensely powerful and brave individuals in Azeroth who would indeed prove to be formidable foes to the Legion. But, that feeling of dread she had felt in her chest as Khadgar had closed the chamber door, was still lingering. She could not fathom what was irking her so desperately. Simply fear for the safety of the man she now cared for so deeply? Most likely.

Once she was washed, she dressed in her own clothes. The gowns had been wonderful, but she felt they were to be worn when times were more joyous and preferably Legion free. Her jeans, T-shirt and over shirt were the more appropriate attire, for now, she felt. It was good to get her trainers back on too; like walking on air.

Now what? she wondered. If only she could do something useful. She was ... redundant though! She had no magical powers like her beloved Khadgar, no fighting skills such as Ocel and the warriors she had mingled with at the banquet. Heck, she didn't even know how to heal people unless it was as simple as sticking a band-aid on them and having them swallow some paracetamol. 

She slumped down on the bed again, her eyes raking over the crumpled, untidy bedding. She afforded a smirk. No doubt Rowena and her colleagues would giggle when they came in to tidy up.

Her eyes lifted as birds flitting past the open window caught her attention. She rose, wandered over and looked out at the courtyard below and the city beyond. It hit her then just how much out of her depth she truly was. Everyone else in this world had something to contribute to the good of the Alliance - or the Horde. She ... had nothing.

Since the first day she woke in Azeroth, only occasionally had she wondered how she even arrived there. It had been all too easy to become absorbed in the world with all its colourful characters, beautiful cities and magical beasts. 

With nothing more to offer the people, however, she had time to dwell on the subject. Was she perhaps lying in a coma on Earth? Had she been so horribly mangled in a car wreckage, that she was doped to the eyeballs, and this was a mere hallucination? Would she ever wake up? Would she be able to walk, talk, speak? 

Her heart started to pound. If she was going to be left as a mere shell of her former self, then she never  _wanted_ to wake up; she never wanted to leave Azeroth. But then, what was to become of her here? With all things changed from the game, and her knowledge exhausted, she knew not what lay ahead. Was she going to die here? Would the Legion succeed in routing the planet of its peoples? She slumped against the window frame.

What now? she wondered again, despondency starting to take hold. I can't bear sitting here wondering, worrying...

A knock on the door startled her. A moment or two later another knock sounded. She sighed. It was probably the maids coming to do their chores. She crossed the room and opened it. Utter surprise washed over her when she found Prince Anduin standing before her. "Good morning." He beamed his ever-endearing smile.

"Good morning to you too," she replied. The melancholy lifted slightly as she looked at his youthful face. He seemed eager to share something with her.

"Come, Sarah, you need some company. I want you to meet some people."

She inhaled deeply. It was not that she was ungrateful for his consideration, it was more that she had never felt least like socialising than she did right now. The Prince sensed her hesitancy. Concern crossed his young face. "Is something the matter?" he enquired.

Forcing a smile, she shook her head and breathed out slowly. "No, nothing," she said, not wanting to burden him with her concerns. "Who am I going to meet then?" She stepped out and closed the door behind her. 

All along the corridor, guards were posted outside the rooms. She gulped. Had they been there all night, she wondered. A slight flush spread across her cheeks.

Always astute, Anduin caught the look of disquiet in her eyes. He followed her gaze. With the corners of his mouth trying to suppress a smile, he whispered, "The morning guard. They are posted along the halls while the housekeeping is being carried out. It has only been a recent order to things, since … well, since the Broken Shore really. Merely precaution, nothing more."

Sarah understood and nodded. Relieved to hear they had not been privy to certain sounds from her chamber during the night, she was still somewhat disappointed the royal household felt the need for such action. It seemed Varian had taken into consideration Jaina's warning of a possible Horde assault after all.

The Prince gesticulated they move ahead. He led her to the gardens of the keep where she saw Lukha waiting with two others. The Draenei hugged Sarah when she saw her, then she turned and introduced the newcomers.

A Night Elf by the name of Tharaei Swiftfeather stepped forward. He was a promising mage and had aspirations of one day being trained by Khadgar himself. Tharaei bowed low and bade good morning. Sarah responded in kind.

Tharaei was not afraid to admit that by asking to accompany his friend Lukha, he'd thought he may have a chance to speak with the Archmage. His apparent disappointment was etched clearly on his face when Sarah informed him Khadgar was gone on the King's business. She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the Elf and so promised she would speak with Khadgar on his behalf when the Archmage returned. Tharaei smiled his gratitude and bowed again. Sarah welcomed him into their group.

Erik Longmaster, Supreme Hunter, or so he called himself, was a close family friend of Lukha and Taril's. Lukah's husband was also a keen hunter and he and the Dwarf had become firm friends over the years. He had requested, well, demanded really, that he meet the human who changed the fate of King Varian. Sarah welcomed him into the company also.

"And what of your husband then, Lukha? I was hoping to finally meet him," Sarah said.

The Draenei sighed and explained he was among those who had gone to fight the Burning Legion in Kalimdor, along with her uncle. Sarah had not realised Vindicator Ocel had left these shores. She placed a comforting hand on Lukha's arm. "I'm sure they will look out for each other and come home before too long."

Lukha nodded wistfully, "I hope you are right, Sarah."

"Aye," Erik interjected a little sulkily, "but they widnae take me, wud they, 'cause of my deformed leg." He looked at each of the companions, in turn, expecting some sympathy.

"Which one?" Tharaei asked drily with the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

After a moment's stunned silence, Sarah started to laugh. She knew she shouldn't, but the Night Elf's expression as he'd asked the question struck her as incredibly funny. Her moment of inappropriateness was soon relieved as her mirth was joined by Anduin and Lukha. 

The Draenei explained that there was a genuine camaraderie between the Dwarf and the Elf and Sarah should expect to hear quite a lot of teasing between the two.

"You of a' folk, mocking the afflicted!" Erik scolded, pointing a dumpy forefinger at Lukha. Then his face broke into a smile and hearty laughter pealed from his rounded little belly. Tharaei, tall and slender, stood with arms crossed and merely smirked.

"Ach, this Keep's getting' a bit stale is it no'? Pardon me Yer Highness, nae offence meant." Erik bobbed his head.

"None taken. What do you propose, Supreme Hunter?" The Prince smiled.

The Dwarf puffed out his chest with pride. "Well, a wee spot of huntin' comes tae mind."

"You propose hunting. With that?" Tharaei asked pointing at Erik's bow.

"Aye! For rabbits, laddie, no the Legion!" Erik rolled his eyes. "Maybe some boar if oor lucky. And there's nowt wrong with ma' bow, I'll have ye told."

Tharaei shrugged.

"That sounds fun!" Anduin said. "I'll get some bows and quivers for the rest of us from the weaponry."

"Your Highness!" Lukha protested. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide.

Sarah was very grateful for this proposed distraction. She was more than willing to venture out so her mind wouldn't be constantly worrying about Khadgar. With a bit of luck, Erik might even teach her how to use a bow. "Lukha," she smiled, "Prince Anduin is not a little boy anymore. He faced far greater terrors than rabbits and boars, in Pandaria." She was already heading towards the arch that would lead them back into the Keep. Tharaei and Erik were following closely. "Come on," she beckoned the Draenei. "It will be fun."

Lukha started after them. "But, the King..."

"Is busy!" Anduin laughed over his shoulder.

**

The Prince had led them through a series of secret passages in the Keep which brought them out just shy of Northshire Abbey. Dusting themselves off, they proceeded east along the river.

They stopped near a fallen tree and for a while, Sarah and Lukha were tutored in the art of archery. 

Anduin, quite skilled with a bow himself, stood behind Sarah, helping her with her aim. 

Erik smiled awkwardly at Lukha. Plainly lacking what all the others possessed - height - he had no option but to ask Tharaei to assist Lukha while he merely voiced direction. The result amused the Dwarf. The women were  _not_ natural archers.

After a while, it was time for Erik to show off his finely honed skills. Further downstream was a plump boar snuffling around a small crop of peacebloom. The group huddled down behind some rocks while Erik moved out from behind cover and readied his aim.

"Where's your pet?" Sarah whispered.

"Huh?" Erik grunted, a beady eye glancing back at her over his shoulder.

"Don't you hunters have pets?"

Erik chuckled mischievously. "Oh! Well, ah dinnae really need tae yaise mine fur huntin' here, lass. But in answer tae yer question … There!" he said jabbing his thumb at Tharaei. 

The Night Elf narrowed his eyes at the insult. 

Erik continued chortling, taking aim again. "In need o' mair trainin' though, he's a bit rough aroond the edges." 

Before he had a chance to release his arrow, a bright blue frost bolt shot past his ear freezing some stray strands of hair and the edge of his beard. He watched in disbelief as the boar squealed once, then fell on its side as stiff as a board. Erik lowered his bow and glared at Tharaei.

"But, it would seem, I'm learning quickly," the Night Elf mage explained, with a slightly smug grin playing on his lips.

Sarah and the others suppressed their laughter as they ducked back down behind the rocks. Their silent hilarity was agony, causing a major stitch in Sarah's side. Anduin and Lukha were almost as helpless.

"I  _hud_ that!" Erik growled.

"Obviously." Tharaei replied, glancing at the rocks where he heard the wheezing trio.

"Ye'll huv tae defrost the buggerin' thing now tho'!"

The laughter now drew Erik's attention and he strode over to the three giggling individuals behind the boulders. He was about to say something when the sound of beating wings suddenly caught everyone's attention.

Their mirth gradually subsided as they all looked skyward. "Do you think you father has sent out gryphon riders to find you?" Lukha asked the Prince.

Anduin shook his head, glancing up at the trees. "I don't think so," he said, laughing lightly. They waited. Nothing more could be heard nor seen. Anduin rose from his grassy seat and helped Sarah and Lukha to their feet. He offered to carry the boar over his shoulders.

Erik protested. "Och, let the mage carry it. It was his kill!"

The Prince shook his head and proceeded to the carcass.

"Yaise that floaty spell thingy ye dae," Erik barked at Tharaei.

The Night Elf grinned. "That is a gift priests possess, small one, not mages."

"Ah! Yer no' sae perfect efter a' then," the Dwarf taunted, a satisfied smirk twitching the edges of his moustache.

"I can, however…" Tharaei began, as swirling amethyst wisps formed in his hand. "Turn you into anything I please." The magic essence pulsed.

"Gentlemen!" Lukha announced. "Please! Stop this."

The Dwarf and Night Elf glanced at her, their faces momentarily serious. Tharaei's spell diminished and he lowered his hands. He exchanged a look with Erik. 

Next, the two of them burst out laughing. Lukha seemed confused at first but Sarah's small chuckle from behind soon had her giggling again. Lukha stared back at Erik and Tharaei. "Oh! You two! I should know better by now," she said, shaking her head.

"Aye lass, ye should!" Erik responded. Tharaei's warm laughter tumbled freely from his lips.

With the boar on Anduin's shoulders, the group moved on. A little further ahead, Sarah realised they were near where Khadgar had found her. Stone Cairn Lake.

"Murlocs!" Erik hissed, adopting a crouch.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Those little things? They can't do us any harm, surely."

"Rob ye blind, the wee gits, would," he grumbled. "Gid for target practice tho'," he said, raising his bow and readying an arrow.

"No! You can't," Sarah pleaded.

"Oh, but ah can!" Erik said taking aim. Just as he was about to shoot, Tharaei placed a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.

"Whit now!" Erik growled. He glared at the mage whose eyes were fixed on something above them. All of them looked up.

There in the branches above their heads, three Demon Hunters crouched, watching the group keenly.

Two were female Elves, one Blood, the other Night. The third member of the troop was a male Night Elf. Sarah thought the female Night Elf was the one who had reacted to her at the banquet. 

Their eyeless sockets made it difficult to know exactly who or what they were looking at, and their presence was a little unnerving. 

Anduin, forever the gallant young Prince, stepped forward. Dropping the boar from his shoulders he looked up at the demonic trio. "Good day. Can we help you?"

The Blood Elf sniggered, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in soft, buoyant folds. Her colleagues soon joined in the mirth. Even their laughter had a slightly menacing timbre to it.

Sarah, although still as fascinated as she was when she first set eyes on the Illidari at the banquet, did not, however, appreciate their rudeness. She stepped forward so she was level with Anduin. "His Highness asked you a question. It is deemed polite to speak in response, rather than snicker."

A small sound escaped Lukha's trembling lips. Erik moved closer to her, his hands tightening around his bow.

"Sarah, it's alright," Anduin reassured.

The female demonised Night Elf tilted her head in his direction. "Prince Anduin. Heir to the throne of Stormwind," she said slowly. Her tone was not threatening, it had in fact, been merely an acknowledgement. 

She spread her wings and glided down, landing gracefully in front of the young Prince. She circled him, her movements a little jerky, almost automated.

Anduin never flinched as she moved in closer. His eyes merely followed her. "These are my friends," he said calmly. "This is Lukha," he indicated each of his companions with an open gesture of his hand. "Tharaei, Erik and Sarah."

The demon hunter encompassed them all. Herding them like sheep. Her tattoos shimmered, ripples of fluorescent green coursing over her skin. She stopped in front of Sarah. Her head raised slightly. She inhaled her scent. Her lips curled over her elongated canines.

The intrusion of her personal space rendered Sarah on edge. She did not like this at all. She felt the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle as the Illidari indulged in a second, more audible sniff. Sarah stumbled, trying to edge away from her. The two Elves still perched above the group laughed softly.

"Happy hunting," their inquisitor said, a lop-sided smile pinching her lips. 

With a snap, she unfurled her wings and swooped up into the canopy once more. She communicated something to her two comrades, then they all took to the air and vanished from sight.

A few moments passed before Erik exhaled loudly. "Well. That wis … interestin'. Onybody for some ribs?"

The tension was replaced with relief, the group couldn't help but laugh with him. Anduin picked up the boar once again. Erik promptly started marching off towards Stormwind. Lukha, Anduin and Sarah smiled after him.

"Ahem," Tharaei cleared his throat loudly, indicating the portal he had just conjured.

The Dwarf turned. He huffed. Rounding his head, making his neck crick loud enough for the others to hear, he slung his bow over his shoulder and marched back towards the group. He grunted as he noticed them all smirking. Just as he stepped into the portal, he heard the night elf mage telling the others, "He's in need of more training, of course. He's a bit rough around the edges, you see."

Erik was sucked through the portal before he could respond.


	16. SENSE OF FOREBODING

The five companions voted unanimously to remain in the Keep following their hunting encounter. Anduin had delivered the boar to the kitchens where he left it with the staff for butchering and cooking. Some hog delights would be served to him and his guests later that day.

Sarah enjoyed the company of her two new companions and listened enthusiastically to the tales they told of their homes, families and adventures.

Erik was very much how she had imagined a dwarf hunter to be; all huff, gruff and puff but with a kind and generous heart. He told her of not only his extremely successful hunting trips but also (wearing a somewhat compunctious expression) about the occasional hunting faux pas he had experienced. They had resulted in not too serious, but often embarrassing injuries.

Lukha smirked and informed Sarah it was mainly Erik who caused the accidents in the first place and her husband often came home with some form of injury to his person. However, Erik also managed to injure himself on a fairly regular basis too. The exploits had gone from mildly amusing to hilariously funny.

Lukha's eyes were streaming as she asked Erik to relate the story of when he and Taril went to Azuremyst Isle on a hunt for moongraze stags.

The dwarf smirked and happily told his captive audience the tale. Initially, they had been hired, along with other hunters to help stock various inns and kitchens, mainly in venison. Having completed the task, they decided to try and snag a couple for themselves.

"Oor competitive, me and Taril, and ah didnae think onything untoward when the lad wis naewhar tae be seen." Erik explained with a degree of flair and drama. "Ah thought he'd snuck off tae try and bag a target further across the meadows. Well …" 

He took a long draft of ale then dragged his arm across his face, wiping the froth from his wiry red beard and moustache. "I heard the bushes rustlin' tae ma right and a young fawn bolted oot frae behind them. Ah knew summat had spooked her. And, when ah looked again ah could see the rump o' a fine stag still amongst the foliage. Ah got tae thinking he'd been tryin' a wee bit romance in the shrubbery, and the lady deer didnae want tae ken. So, very carefully …" he acted out taking aim with a bow. "Ah lined up ma arra' and with perfect aim…"

Lukha could not contain her laughter. Erik eyes twinkled as he glanced in her direction. "Thwack!" He emphasised by smacking fist on palm. Silence, apart from Lukha's muffled giggles.

"You didn't miss. Did you?" Sarah asked. She looked disbelieving at the dwarf.

Erik slowly shook his head. "Nae lass, ah didnae miss." He laughed. "But ah did mistake the target."

The result dawned on both her and Anduin the minute Lukha keeled over in peals of laughter. Thaerai's humour rumbled deep in his chest as the Elf tried hard to keep a relatively straight face.

"No!" Sarah exclaimed, as she bleated a guffaw.

Erik started to chortle. "Aye! It wisnae a stag. It had been Taril answerin' the call o' nature. Ah shot him in his bare erse."

Lukha, struggling to form the words, described how Taril had come home, his face both thunderous and embarrassed at having been shot in the behind. He had gone to bed, unable to speak about it. 

Erik had enlightened her as to what had happened. Their corresponding laughter was awarded a very disgruntled reprimand from the wounded Draenei in the other room. Thankfully, the next day, Taril did manage to laugh about the incident.

The stories kept coming and the group of friends were almost exhausted from laughing so much. They were somewhat relieved when dinner was served and allowed them time to regain composure and calm down.

As for Tharaei - initially, Sarah had thought him to be a very serious, almost aloof young man. However, she soon found out he was a bit of a prankster who simply had a very dry sense of humour. 

Already having bore witness to his pranks when he had stolen the kill from Erik earlier, Sarah now enjoyed hearing about his family. He was the youngest of three brothers and hailed from Auberdine, in Darkshore. The destruction of the town by Deathwing however, meant his family had to make a new home. They moved to neighbouring Felwood where they found temporary lodgings in Talonbranch Glade. A few months later, they finally settled in Moonglade, where his family still resided.

Sarah listened intently, picturing the town of his birth with fondness. It had been one of her "chill-out" places in the game before Cataclysm; the expansion in which Deathwing, formerly Neltharion the Earth-Warder, one of the five Dragon Aspects and leader of the black dragonflight, burned it to the ground along with many other locations in Azeroth.

The Night Elves were also her favourite race in the game, and Tharaei was evidence why. He was charming, with a soft, hypnotic voice. His blue hair was tied back from the temples into a high ponytail, the rest hung loose, cascading down over his back and shoulders. The bright shining eyes had a misty assurance and always seemed kind.

As she listened to his lilting intonation, Sarah made herself a promise that she would do her utmost to have Khadgar at least meet the young man. Hopefully, he would see fit to taking him under his wing.

Of course, the conversation turned to Sarah as they were curious about her too. She tried her best not to simply repeat what she had already disclosed to Anduin, but inevitably, some of it was unavoidable. 

Forever the polite young man and gracious host, he made out he was hearing it for the first time. She still avoided talking about the Broken Shore, for all history in Azeroth had now been influenced by her conjecture. The virtual death of King Varian was still harrowing to her, and she never wanted anyone to know about it, other than the man she had confided in. Khadgar. She was thankful that he had not divulged the gory details to Varian but had simply teleported him out explaining that she had "insider" information that things would not end well otherwise.

Before they knew it, the hour was getting late. With them all having had their fill of gammon, boar ribs, sweet potatoes, bread and ale, and having enjoyed an affable afternoon and evening together, it was time for Lukha, Erik and Thaerei to leave.

Sarah linked arms with Lukha as they strolled through corridors and cut across the gardens to the main entrance of the Keep. She adored the Draenei and considered her a close friend.

Erik and Tharaei continued an in-depth conversation with Anduin about the pending war ahead. Rightly or wrongly, Sarah did not want to listen to that conversation. It reminded her that truly horrific things lay ahead and she had no idea where her place was or in which world she now belonged. 

It was, therefore, an oddly welcome turn of subject when Lukha chose to broach the subject of Khadgar. "I am glad it is working out between the two of you," she said. A small smile of approval played on her hyacinth- blue lips.

Sarah squeezed Lukha's arm lightly. "So am I," she replied. Her eyes drifted to the paving they walked upon.

The Draenei sensed a foreboding in Sarah's demeanour. "What troubles you, my friend?" she asked keeping her voice low so not to alert the male company ahead of them.

A nightingale sang in the gardens drawing both women's attention for a moment. The almond eyes turned back to Sarah, concern clearly residing within. "Talk to me, Sarah," she encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, she voiced her fears for Khadgar on the Broken Isles. Her ability to predict what would happen was now gone, erased, and she had absolutely no idea what the future held. All she did know, was the war was looming, and it would be bloody with insurmountable losses.

The Draenei looked thoughtfully to the stars for a few moments before responding. "My people have survived the Burning Legion for millennia, Sarah. Since Sargeras visited our home planet of Argus, we have fought; fled and lived to fight another day. And so the cycle repeated. We escaped Draenor and landed here in Azeroth. Once more we fight the Legion."

"But at least you knew where you were going," Sarah whispered. "I do not know. Nor have I worked out if I will remain here, or whether I will wake up in my own world again, perhaps a mere husk of who I once was. I am  _scared_ if truth be told."

Lukha smiled, stroking Sarah's hand in reassurance. "You must not worry that you do not know what the future holds; none of us truly do and such a responsibility is not yours to shoulder. One thing I can tell you, Sarah, is that here, now, is very real indeed and you are part of it. I doubt very much, that you lie comatose in a bed on the other side of the universe. You are here, with us." Lukha spoke with such conviction that Sarah's apprehension eased considerably.

Once more casting her eyes to the star-studded sky, Lukha offered her another insight to the strange, unpredictable way of things. "Draenor was alien to us as was Azeroth, and our landing here was not intentional. We Draenei, are older than the Night Elves, Sarah. Some of us are immortal too, such as our great Prophet Velen, who has been around for over 25,000 years. He has seen much, experienced and lost plenty too." 

She paused and turned her attention back to her friend. "Illidan and his people are but babies compared to Velen, yet they too have traversed through difficult times in the history of their people." She pulled Sarah a little closer. "No earthbound mortals nor immortals can properly predict future events. The Naaru on the other hand, are different. They are the  _true_ immortals, the all seeing, all knowing, supreme beings of the universe and The Great Beyond. They and they alone, know what lies ahead." She glanced at Sarah. 

A look of utter discombobulation crossed the Earth woman's face. Lukha laughed lightly, then patted Sarah's hand. " Discovering the future, Sarah, carving it as we go is what makes life worth living. And Khadgar will not feel any less for you simply because you are not an oracle."

They had reached the top of the stairs which led down towards the canals. A few individuals milled about the outmost gate of the Keep. Royal Guards posted at intervals kept a watchful eye on the comings and goings of all within the and outwith the grounds.

Anduin bade Erik and Tharaei goodnight and offered a gentlemanly bow to Lukha. Sarah's goodnight was much more informal, a sisterly hug for the Draenei and a kiss on the cheeks for both Erik and Tharaei.

With a final wave to their three guests, Anduin accompanied Sarah back to her chamber. They commented on the day's events and the laughter they had shared with the others. "It has been a very entertaining day, Sarah. Thank you." The Prince gave another courteous bow.

"Thank you, Anduin. I needed that today."

"Sleep well then and we will see what tomorrow will bring."

"Indeed we shall. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Her door closed with a quiet click. Keeping in mind that Varian had taken precautionary measures regarding a possible attack by the Horde, she turned the key in the lock.

She hopped on one foot as she attempted to pull her boot off the other. Nearly losing balance, she flopped down on the edge of the bed and safely removed the second boot. She carelessly dropped them off to the side and sat back, keeping herself propped up with hands behind her.

For a few moments, she stared out at the moon as it hovered over the city. Her thoughts once more returned to her beloved Khadgar. Where was he now? Was he looking up at the moon wondering the same about her? She ached for his safe return and stared wistfully at the empty pillow beside her.

Not knowing how he was faring was the worst. It was undoubtedly an interminably difficult mission he was on, fraught with many dangers. She knew he was not without capability at fending off danger but still, there was no quashing her worry for him regardless. It was inevitable considering how things had progressed between them.

She draped her overshirt on the back of a chair and peeled off her T-shirt. Finally, she slid out of her jeans and let them fall to the floor near her boots. Casting off her underwear, she donned the flimsy nightgown she had brought with her from Dalaran. 

After splashing some cold water on her face and dabbing it dry, she sat at the dressing table and started to brush out her hair. A ritual she had adopted from a few years ago, she always brushed one hundred times. Something she had read in a magazine once, it was a recommendation for strong, healthy, shiny hair. She had found it to be also very therapeutic.

She counted aloud as she brushed. Fifty strokes in and she tipped her head forward and started brushing from the underside. "Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-ni …"

"You are his mate, yes?"

Sarah yelped in surprise and jumped at the unexpected interruption. Her brush fell from her hand, landing with a dull thud on the luxurious rug underfoot. She flipped her hair back and stared in the direction of the window where the voice had come from. It had the unmistakable soft tones of a female Night Elf.

Crouching on the balustrade of the balcony, with wings folded back, sat the Demon Hunter who had invaded Sarah's space earlier that day. The fel-coloured sockets were even eerier under the cover of night.

Sarah remained seated but poised ready to flee if need be. "Who are you?" She demanded. "What do you want?" "How did you know I was here?"

The Demon Hunter smiled, her fangs momentarily exposed. She jumped down from her perch. "So many questions, so little time." She tilted her head in the predatory manner Sarah was becoming accustomed to. 

She stepped into the room and sniffed the air making a sound almost like purring. Her movements, just like earlier were automated, robotic and fast, so very fast.

Instantly, Sarah was off the stool and around the edge of her bed. "Who are you? Answer me!" Try as she did, she could not disguise the tremor in her voice.

The one-time Night Elf ventured further in. Her cloth covered sockets flared as her head turned, surveying the room. She ran her taloned fingers across the back of the chair where Sarah had draped her shirt. Her hand halted when she touched the item of clothing. She picked it up and buried her nose in it, inhaling deeply.

"Put that down!" Sarah said, attempting to sound authoritative.

The demon hunter smirked but did as she was asked. "You have expensive tastes."

"It's just a shirt."

"I meant the perfume. Honeysuckle and Wild Lotus."

Sarah merely jutted out her chin in agreement. Sarah's body was taut, ready for flight, although she doubted she could actually move.

Continuing into the room, the female repeatedly sniffed. She neared the bed and stared at it for the longest time before snatching up a pillow. 

She held it like a precious babe and caressed it with one elongated talon. Her wings vibrated, pulsed, the membraned hide rippling, catching the moonbeams which filtered through the window. 

Her body, bearing a blue tone, not unlike Lukha's, was finely toned, every inch of her muscle and sinew, oozing vitality and strength. Her attire was limited, the small top nothing more than a leather bra, covered her well-formed breasts adequately enough, although the cleavage was mind-blowing. Close fitting leather leggings which were cropped exposed the customary hocks and cloven feet of a demon.

Sarah gasped as the demon hunter licked the pillow. "Stop that!"

Fel shimmering sockets turned in her direction. "There is another scent here," she said with a lop-sided smile.

Incensed at the female's audacity, Sarah propelled herself forward and grabbed the pillow from the taloned hands. "I ask you again, who are you!"

The Demon Hunter turned back towards the window, her leather attire creaking as she moved. "I am Arcaena," she said. "And I am interested in you, for I can smell it on you."

Sarah stepped back from the bed and started to back her way to the door clutching the pillow and her night robe. Interested in me? Smell it on me? She wasn't sure she wanted to pursue the questioning anymore. She reached behind her, trying to locate the door handle.

The Demon Hunter laughed, although little mirth resided within the sound. "You flatter yourself, human. Relax, I have no intentions of that nature." 

She bent down and picked up the hairbrush from the floor. She turned it in her hands, staring at it as if she had never seen a brush before. "I asked  _you_ a question also and you have not yet satisfied  _my_ curiosity. I thought it was impolite not to answer. Did you not say something like that earlier today?"

Sarah exhaled slowly. She had already met two very powerful women here in Azeroth, both who, she was pretty sure, could snuff her out in an instant. She did not need a third against her. This one, however, was considerably scarier. Undeniably impressive, but scary.

Her silence seemed to irritate Arcaena. "Well?" The Demon Hunter said sharply.

"Um..."

"The one they call Khadgar! He is your mate?" Arcaena insisted.

Sarah would not have referred to him as basely but she nodded confirmation.

Arcaena's dark lips curled. "I thought so. His scent is on you, as yours is on him."

Sarah was stunned at that piece of intel. She stepped away from the door, her trepidation of the demon hunter now taking a back seat. "You have seen him? Why didn't you say? Do you know where he has gone?"

Arcaena looked in her direction with a grin. "He has gone to the Broken Isles. Kayn and six other Illidari accompany him."

Sarah's heart missed a beat. As she'd feared, he was in the epicentre of the invasion. "I know he is on the Broken Isles but where exactly? For how long?"

The Illidari laughed lightly. "Are you familiar with the area?"

"Not really," Sarah replied, not willing to go into how she knew what she did.

"Then what good would my answer be?"

The female was starting to irritate Sarah, but she dared not show it. This creature was probably the deadliest thing she had come into contact with yet. She thought perhaps another approach might be advisable. "Please! I need to know."

Wisps of fel energy floated upwards from the cloth around her sockets as she looked in Sarah's direction. Her voice softened just a shade as she answered. "How do I know, human? Besides, I hear tell that you are the one with all the answers. Sarah? That is your name if I remember correctly?"

Sarah nodded. "You hear much for one who has just arrived in the big city."

Seemingly tired of the hairbrush, Arcaena set it down on the dressing table almost tenderly. "Cities, continents, worlds...all become very small when the Legion invades..." She paused. Then, almost inaudibly, "... and some disappear entirely."

There was an unmistakable note of sadness in her voice. It conveyed the tragedy behind the Illidari which Sarah was familiar with from the lore - homes destroyed, families and loved ones lost, all resulting in their drive for vengeance.

"I'm sorry," Sarah breathed.

Arcaena's head snapped up. "Do not pity me, Outsider. My Lord has shown me the way."

"Illidan." Sarah smiled a little but it was soon wiped from her face.

"You are not worthy to speak his name!" Arcaena spat.

Sarah flinched. She had meant no disrespect, quite the opposite in fact.

"Why are you here, Arcaena?" she asked steadily.

The Demon Hunter stood silently for a moment. Then she held out her hand. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Sarah knew from her gaming, that the Illidari had sworn to help both the Alliance and the Horde in the battle against the Legion. They were driven to destroy it. Which meant, they were to be trusted. She hoped. 

But, she also knew, now standing in close proximity of one, that even with all their magnificence, all their unearthly beauty, and mesmerising powers, they were utterly terrifying.

"I mean you know harm, Sarah. But, I need answers," she thrust her hand forward again. "And I think you do too."

That piqued Sarah's interest. She stared at the upturned demonic appendage. "I need? What do you think it is that I need to know?" Her heart was hammering inexplicably. Her eyes flitted back to the fel sockets in front of her.

"How you came to be here. In Azeroth."

Sarah faltered. "How - how do you possibly know..."

"I am Illidari. I sensed more than mere lust and desire on you and your mate."

Sarah's stomach started to churn. "What?"

The Demon Hunter straightened. "I sense fel energy."


	17. RIPPLES

Sarah gripped the Demon Hunter's arm so tightly she left deep nail indentations on the blue skin. To Arcaena's obvious amusement, Sarah had squealed when she grabbed her tightly around the waist.

The human's eyes almost popped from her sockets as the Demon Hunter moved at an unfathomable speed towards the balcony's open windows. Arcaena launched them from the stone balustrade and climbed straight up towards the night sky.

She laughed wickedly as she watched Sarah's silent scream stretch her lips over her teeth.

They circled the Keep, high enough so the guards would not be spurred into defensive action. Sarah dared to look below. Her breathing was shallow from her panic as she saw the turrets and rooftops.

She wished she could find her voice and scream then hopefully attract the soldiers. Her throat, however, contracted, and small squeaks were all she could muster. Did she really wish to alert the guard though? If she did, she may not find out the answer to her situation.

Arcaena's grip tightened as they flew over the mountainous ridge to the north of the Keep. The strength and power of the woman was insane. Sarah grimaced, still slightly nervous about this mode of transport but then returned to her thoughts. Had she drawn the guards' attention, maybe this ludicrously agile female would have just dived down and levelled them all like skittles in a bowling alley. It was perhaps best that she was unable to attract their attention.

As they left the grounds of Stormwind Keep, her mind actually started to wonder if she wanted to know the answers about her mysterious arrival in Azeroth. By discovering how it had happened, what if it also became apparent she could never return home? Well... would that be so  _bad_?

Irrational thoughts gripped her again. Certainly not if she was destined to be in a vegetative state back home, she really didn't want to go back. But, she had no idea if that was the case. She could, quite easily, be perfectly fine; just bruised and battered a bit with all her motor neurone faculties intact and nothing more sinister than a mild concussion.

The night air buffeted her hair, whipping it over her eyes and into her mouth. Her thinking rudely interrupted again, she clawed at the strands, removing them from her mouth and eyes before the wind blew her mane back over her head. She considered her situation once more as Arcaena glided overland.

Another alternative presented itself. If, whatever the Demon Hunter wanted her to see  _could_  somehow lead her home – would she even want that? Would she really want to leave Azeroth? Her new friends? Khadgar? It may not even be a choice for her. It could well be just the order of things to come.

A melancholy cloud settled over her. If that was the case she just prayed she would see him at least one more time.

A rush of cold air brought her out of her reverie. She was most thankful the demon hunter had at least allowed her time to dress. Even so, she now wished she had put on something warmer; her over-shirt was not designed for high altitude temperatures. They were so high up now, the ground was just a patchy black mass. She shivered and clung to Arcaena's arm.

The Demon Hunter toyed with her nervous passenger. Turning south again she soared and swooped between the hills, over and under treetops in Elwynn Forest. She was enjoying the pathetic little squeals and yelps of the human. Her demon hide wings produced ruffled sounds like thick canvas blowing in the wind and snapping taut. She was, however, nearing their destination. Time to stop unnerving her cargo.

There was still time for just one more scare though, surely. Folding her wings flat against her back, she plummeted towards the ground. Her laughter erupted again as Sarah found her voice. The human's scream rose from the souls of her feet.

Moments from touching down, the demon hide wings snapped open, slowing their descent. With unexpected grace and control, Arcaena landed perfectly, taking only a few short steps on making contact with the lush grass.

She ensured her terrified passenger was steady enough on her legs before releasing her grip and stepping back. She gave Sarah a few minutes to recover from her experience.

Bent over, hands on knees, Sarah was gulping in the air following her sheer panic attack at hurtling to the ground. Gradually she regained some composure.

Moonbeams lit the area offering her ample light to get her bearings. Peering through the unruly strands of her hair, she recognised her surroundings. There was no mistaking Stone Cairn Lake and its island which housed Heroes Vigil; the stone cairn monument commemorating the lives lost during the First War against the orcs. For the second time that day she was back where Khadgar had found her just over three weeks ago.

Her journey this time had, however, been the singular most nerve-wracking experience to date. It had also brought to the fore, how unrealistic the Demon Hunter model in the game truly was. Blizzard really had no concept of what feats of strength the Illidari were truly capable of.

Arcaena stood a little distance away, hands on hips as she observed the human. She laughed lightly. "You seem … a little breathless," she said.

"Yes, well," Sarah managed between gasps. "You are not quite what I imagined."

"And what is that exactly?" The Illidari strolled over, her long legs carrying her like a catwalk model.

"You are depicted differently where I come from. Not quite as strong, and certainly not able to fly such long distances."

"Ha!" The demon hunter straightened her extraordinarily lithe, toned body. "So, you are deceived by your own people too?"

Sarah frowned. She clasped a handful of her unruly hair and pulled it back over her shoulders. "Perhaps that is overstating it. You are after all just a few multi-coloured pixels where I come from."

She pushed herself up straight and was suitably pleased to see Arcaena looking puzzled by what she had just heard. She decided not to explain that the Illidari were nothing more than the end product of computer technology in her world, and simply straightened the tails of her shirt.

The Demon Hunter grunted and moved past, leading her towards the exact spot she had been found. "This is where you came through," Arcaena announced bluntly.

Sarah moved next to her and glanced around. "Through what?"

The Illidari lifted her face to the sky. She seemed to be waiting or looking for something.

Sarah did likewise, affording quick glances at Arcaena to see if her expression displayed any form of recognition to what she searched for. A strange little sound unexpectedly escaped her as an unbidden, and rather inappropriate thought entered her head. It's like the blind leading the blind. A muted giggle followed once more.

Arcaena turned, her glowing sockets eerily pulsing their fluorescent green in the night. "What amuses you?" she asked, a distinct dislike for flippant behaviour resonating in her tone.

Sarah ran her tongue quickly over her dry lips. "Nothing, I'm just a bit jumpy."

"Do I make you nervous?" Arcaena's lips curled over her small fangs. Her intolerance being shelved in favour of her sense of self-importance.

"Actually, you ... you terrify me." It was a strange relief admitting that. These Illidari, though utterly exotic, intoxicating, and powerful, were also thoroughly capable of making her emit a scream right off the Richter scale. She strongly doubted it would be a considered a pleasure any more if she did meet their master, Lord Illidan. No less a fan of the Illidari leader's story, she was seriously starting to rethink about getting up close and personal.

"Hmm," Arcaena mused. "I terrify you?" She turned and walked on enjoying a small chortle but remaining otherwise quiet.

Sarah was unsure whether she had inadvertently offended or amused the Demon Hunter. Nibbling her bottom lip, she moved forward, keeping as close behind Arcaena as she dared.

They came to a stop near a cluster of rocks. Sarah watched, morbidly fascinated, as Arcaena sniffed the air. All that could be heard was the occasional flapping of tiny wings as bats flitted around the trees and the odd hoot of a distant owl. Not even the murlocs seemed to be stirring in the cool night air.

"How is it so quiet?" Sarah whispered.

"Yes, it is silent, isn't it? With good reason, however. Stay still and you will see why I brought you here."

Her answer unnerved Sarah once more, but she did as she was told. They waited. She could not tell how much time had elapsed, but after a while, she was starting to feel sleepy. That could have been attributed to the good food and ale she had a little earlier, but time seemed to drag by; as it does, when you wait for something.

"There!" Arcaena suddenly pointed to a spot just above the lake. Sarah squinted, trying to see what the Demon Hunter was pointing at. She noticed a bat flitting about, making its tiny squeaks as it used echolocation to detect it's food. Without warning, it vanished. The sky seemed to ripple before their eyes. Seconds later, the bat reappeared just as suddenly as it had vanished.

"A portal?" Sarah gasped. She could not quite fathom the significance of what she had just witnessed

"No. Portals are opened and closed by their creators. This, however, remains open." They stood watching the ripples as they ebbed and flowed in the night sky.

"So, are you saying I somehow dropped out of the sky, through this ... this ripple?"

"Yes." The Demon Hunter turned to face her.

Sarah slumped to the ground. She needed time to digest what she had just been told. If it was true, then it strongly suggested that Azeroth was real, in another dimension yes, but nonetheless real. It still didn't make sense though.

How could her own time have a game which reflected an alternate reality? A reality, which she reminded herself, she had just recently altered. Significantly! Was the passage of time here aligned with her universe? It couldn't be. Think! Think! She had to have flipped back in time, not just through it. Trying to work it out was giving her a headache though.

Then there was mention of fel energy. Where did that come into the equation?

"The fel! You claimed you could smell it off me. What has this to do with the ripple?"

Arcaena almost snarled. "Claimed? You doubt me?"

"I have no particular reason to believe you. For one thing, I do know Khadgar can sense the draw of fel energy and he did not find evidence of it here."

"He would not," Arcaena said almost dismissively. "The fel which created this is infinitesimal, vastly beyond his perception. In comparison to myself, he needs it to be present in copious amounts before he can sense it. The flaws of being human, I guess." Her last comment was said with a sneer.

Sarah fixed the Illidari with a hateful glare. The night elf laughed softly.

Trying to maintain some composure, Sarah pressed on. "So explain. How did it get here then? And what has it to do with me?"

Arcaena then explained. "When the orc warlock opened the Tomb of Sargeras, some fel energy... splintered. It caused subtle fissures in the fabric of time and space and opened passage to new worlds."

"Whoa! Worlds? Plural?"

"I believe so, yes." Arcaena started to circle Sarah, just as she had done earlier in the day. Sarah turned the full 360 degrees with her. "When you tumbled through that …" The Illidari pointed in the direction of the ripple. "… some fel residue must have attached itself to you.  _That_  is what I sensed when I was near you at the banquet and also this morning when you hunted with your friends."

Sarah took a moment to digest what she was being told. Her eyes started to scan her body, trying desperately to spot the traces Arceana referred to. Still, the demon hunter laughed. "Your skin has absorbed it, you cannot brush it off as if it were flour."

"Absorbed?" Sarah asked, perplexed.

"It is not enough to cause much damage." The Illidari waved her hand as if it was of no consequence.

"Much?" As far as Sarah was concerned, even a minuscule amount was dangerous.

"None, then!" Arcaena seemed to grow tired of Sarah's panic. She looked down at her and found her expression still in need of reassurance. "Honestly!"

Eventually, Sarah nodded.

The Demon Hunter pressed on. "I have found another, similar to this one. I will show you."

Once more, Sarah found herself lifted into the air by the Illidari. She was relieved the journey turned out to be not as far as her first. Arcaena landed at the centre of the island in the middle of the lake.

Sarah glanced around. There used to be rogue Defias wizards on the island, she recalled. She was unnerved once more by the conspicuous lack of these individuals.

A low hum began to reverberate from the Remembrance Stone in the island's centre. She turned to find the beginnings of a portal opening. The sound intensified, becoming near deafening, like the swirling of a phenomenal green whirlpool.

"What is this?" she breathed, panic swimming in her eyes. "This - this is not like that ripple at all!" She stumbled back.

Arcaena laughed cruelly. "I think it is time for you to meet someone, Sarah. Someone whom you have ... perhaps annoyingly altered the order of things?" A forceful push and Sarah was hurled into the green torrent.

Her passage through the portal disorientated her. She felt as if she was on a fairground ride, moving yet getting nowhere. Suddenly she stumbled and fell forward. With a violent thud, she landed face down on a cold stone surface. The wind knocked out of her she coughed and spluttered as she struggled to raise herself up and get her bearings.

There was dull green glow to the back of what appeared to be a hollowed out chamber. Narrowing her eyes and focusing ahead, her heart started to pound. The sound of shuffling neared and with it came a low guttural laugh.

"You have done well Arcaena," a somewhat ragged voice spoke from the shadows.

"And our deal?" The Demon Hunter spoke from behind. Her tone although sharp betrayed a hint of fear. Sarah still lay on the floor, breathless.

"All in good time." The shuffling grew nearer. The hem of an ancient robe and the base of a staff came into her view.

"But you promised if I delivered the woman ..." Arcanea was almost pleading.

A sound, like a spark bursting into flame, came from a few feet above Sarah's position. Green flickering light flooded the floor and crept steadily to where she remained transfixed. Her eyes slowly moved upwards.

"I said, all in good time, demon hunter. Unless you wish to incite my anger." The voice said menacingly.

Sarah's eyes widened as the grotesque features of the notorious crippled orc stared down at her. His red eyes oozed ridicule and utter loathing.

She had been sadly mistaken when she considered Arcaena to be the scariest creature she had encountered on Azeroth. This monstrous figure in front of her was undoubtedly her worst nightmare.

Gul'dan.


	18. BLINKED

From the shadows in the courtyard, two figures crept along the base of the wall past the library and small Contemplation garden. They kept their eyes skyward, watching, waiting.

The sound of nearing footfalls mixed with the clinking of chainmail and steel made them halt and press their backs against the stone. A guardsman on night patrol paused near their location. He seemed to have chosen here of all places to carry out his watch.

Erik tugged at Thareai's robe. The Night Elf glanced down at him with mild irritation. The Dwarf was trying to signal a plan of attack, while clearly letting the mage know he was struggling to hold his breath for much longer.

Thareai rolled his eyes. We are stealthed! He mouthed and gestured for the dwarf to calm down. Erik lowered his head, momentarily looking rather sheepish. Seconds later, the guardsman turned and started back towards the Keep's great hall.

Erik audibly exhaled. "I could've hud him," he grumbled, taking huge gulps of air and stabbing a forefinger after the guard.

"And what good, pray tell, would that have served us?" Thareai raised a quizzical eyebrow, its tip quivering in the breeze.

"Well, it wid be yin less tae worry aboot." Erik said defensively.

"We are not worried about the guards though Erik, they are mere obstacles easily dodged. Especially as we are stealthed." 

The sound of leathery wings above their heads had them raise their eyes again. Tharaei pointed skyward. "That is what we have to concern ourselves with." They watched as the demon hunter scrambled across the battlements before gliding down to a balcony on the west wing.

"I dinnae quite understand yer misgivings wi' the thing," Erik muttered. "It wis creepy aye, but Khadgar brought them here. They're on oor side."

Tharaei sighed and looked down at the hunter again. "Yes. To be honest, I'm not sure either my friend, but there was something about the way that one was acting around Sarah. Perhaps it is nothing and then again - maybe something."

The Dwarf grumbled and shrugged impatiently. "This is an Elf thing, innit? These enigmatic little anecdotes of yours?"

The Elf shook his head, mildly amused by his friend's irritation, and moved forward. Erik shuffled behind him. They looked up at the balcony. If they didn't know better, they would have thought it was just a gargoyle carved in stone overlooking the courtyard. Gargoyles, however, did not move nor enter rooms.

The Dwarf supreme hunter prodded the night elf in the back. "Now whit, smarty-pants?" Erik whispered.

Tharaei was scanning the walls. "I need to get up there."

"And how dae ye propose tae dae that?"

Thareai, tapping the side of his nose, grinned at the impetuous dwarf hunter. "It's an 'Elf thing'," he whispered. In a flash, he vanished.

Erik gaped. He spun around, searching frantically for signs of the seven-foot Elf. "Whar the buggerin' hell …" he muttered. A small pebble bounced off his head. He looked up. Thareai signalled to him to stay quiet. Erik huffed. "Bloody mage, of course! Ah forgot they could blink." He maintained a disgruntled vigil at the bottom of the wall.

On the balcony, Tharaei remained in stealth but nevertheless hid behind one of the pillars. He suspected the Demon Hunter would still be able to see him, even cloaked in shadow. Cautiously, he peered around the stone. He saw the Illidari pick up a shirt and put it to her face. From further in the room, he heard Sarah's voice. "Put that down!"

The inkling that the Demon Hunter had an unusual interest in Sarah from their encounter in the forest had proved accurate. It had taken some persuading for Erik to remain with him in the vicinity. The Dwarf, as usual, assumed Tharaei was over-reacting and argued that they should see Lukha safely home then go to their lodgings. As soon as Lukha had closed her door, Tharaei started back to the Keep.

"Ah'm tellin' ye lad, there's nowt tae worry aboot. She's safe in there and there's plenty guards tae protect her." Erik had grumbled as he ran behind trying to keep up with the elf's long strides.

"I beg to differ, Erik," Tharaei retorted. "Remember, they were in the trees when we saw them this morning. That means they won't walk in through the gate." He glanced at Erik over his shoulder.

The Dwarf was chewing on his moustache, thinking over what the Night Elf was telling him. After a moment, he nodded. "Fair enough," he agreed. "But it still disnae explain why ye think they're goin' tae bother the lass."

Tharaei stopped and turned to face the hunter square on. "Well, I sincerely hope it is something as innocuous as 'bother', Erik. But, the way that female reacted to Sarah has me on edge."

The Dwarf's eyes narrowed. He knew the elf had a point. "A'right then lad. Let's check it oot." The two had then made their way back to the Keep under cover of stealth.

Now, Tharaei's suspicions were cemented when the demon hunter had flown in across the battlements. Apart from being genuinely concerned for Sarah's safety, the Elf also had a little agenda of his own. Being purposefully ambitious, this woman was his opportunity to meet the great man, Khadgar, so he calculated looking out for her would be to his advantage.

He had not really expected Erik to tag along, however. He didn't usually when Tharaei worked on a hunch, but he guessed his argument must have been pretty convincing for the bold Dwarf to agree in accompanying him. The downside was Dwarves had a brashness about them that could more often than not, lead them into trouble. And Erik was well versed in that.

He was suddenly aware he was staring at Sarah. His face flushed and he pressed himself back against the pillar. She had stood clutching her night robe, the fabric of which was so delicate, it did not leave much to the imagination. 

A moment passed. He chided himself for being so foolish. Checking over the balustrade he saw Erik impatiently striding back and forth. This was not a time for such gallantry. He faced the room again and listened in to the conversation

"I mean you know harm, Sarah, but I need answers. And I think you do too."

"I need? What do you think I need to know?"

"How you came to be here, in Azeroth."

Tharaei's attention was piqued. He crept a little closer keeping within the shadows.

"I am Illidari," the demon hunter announced haughtily, "I sensed more than mere lust and desire on you and your mate."

"What?" He heard Sarah gasp.

"I sense fel energy."

The mage pressed his back against the pillar. Fel? Was she accusing Sarah of using dark magic? Impossible! Sarah had absolutely no magical ability, and she had said so during their time together that afternoon. 

So, the Demon Hunter must be implying that fel is somehow responsible for Sarah's arrival in Azeroth. He carefully turned back to the room. Sarah was getting dressed.

Subconsciously, he averted his gaze once more. He realised she had accepted the Illidari's invitation. He had to think quickly. Where could she possibly be taking her? he wondered.

His mind scoured the conversations from earlier in the day. Sarah had told them much, not only things about her world but also about when she first arrived here, in Azeroth. So. Logically, there was only one place it could be.

He blinked back to the ground, startling Erik as he suddenly arrived at his side.

"Whit did ye see?" Erik asked once he recovered from the shock of the mage's sudden appearance.

"I will tell you in a moment. For now, I need to find somewhere to open a portal without drawing attention."

"Whar oo gan now?" Erik was exasperated. He hurried after the mage, once more struggling to keep up.

"Stone Cairn Lake." Tharaei said over his shoulder.

**

The trees offered good cover for them when they arrived at the lake, but they remained stealthed and camouflaged just as an extra precaution. They waited behind a crop of Silverleaf which was growing voraciously at the base of a tree. 

There was no sign of the Demon Hunter or Sarah, so Tharaei reckoned he had arrived ahead of schedule. He informed Erik of what he'd overheard and how he came to the conclusion that brought them to the lake.

"That's fair enough laddie, but I still say they're on oor side. Khadgar himself presented them tae the King! Seems tae me she's maybe jist tryin' tae help the lass get hame."

"I wish I had your faith, Erik," the Night Elf said quietly. "And I truly hope my misgivings are unfounded."

The sound of leathery wings and a shadow crossing the moon, had them crouch further down. They heard Sarah's scream before they actually saw the two arrive. 

Tharaei grabbed the front of Erik's jerkin. He threw a warning look at the Dwarf who had been readying himself to break cover and go to Sarah's aid the minute they touched down. They watched as the Demon Hunter arrived with their friend. The former Night Elf landed with an unsurpassed grace and lowered her slightly shaken passenger to the ground. The Illidari stepped back, a little too close to where the two observers crouched behind the shrubbery.

Erik took note of how big the woman was and all the muscle in her legs and arms. Considering she had just carried another person all the way from the Keep, and actually flew the distance, it hit home just how powerful this individual was. He duly nodded to Tharaei, recognising the need to remain calm.

The Illidari moved forward again. From their viewpoint, it was difficult for Tharaei and Erik to make out every word that passed between the Demon Hunter and Sarah. The urge to move closer was tempting, Erik becoming restless once again. The mage, however, kept a firm hand on his shoulder.

They watched as the demon hunter pointed above the lake. Squinting, Tharaei could just make out the fluctuations in the air. He thought he saw a bat disappear and then materialise again. It was as if there was a tear, a rip in the sky.

Sarah slumped to the ground. At first, the companions thought the Illidari had hurt her, both now fighting the instinct to go to her aid. Patience paid off, however, and they realised the two women continued talking. Their concern eased a little.

"Whit dae ye think?" Erik whispered.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think that rippling is a doorway of some kind."

"Like whit you mages make ye mean? Portals?"

"Perhaps, but strictly speaking, it does not have the structure of a portal."

"Look!" Erik stood quickly. "They're aff again. Come, we huv tae keep up!" This time he was off, his little stubby legs carrying him as fast as they could towards the lakeside.

Tharaei had not been quick enough to stop him and uncharacteristically cursed under his breath. Typical dwarven behaviour. He sighed inwardly.

Erik reached the edge of the lake but stopped abruptly, just short of falling in. Flapping his arms wildly, he barely kept his balance and wobbled as he turned to face back the way he'd come. 

He was met by the mage's hand grabbing the front of his jerkin before he felt himself shooting backwards across the water at mind-boggling speed. He was being blinked. 

With his feet kicking frantically in mid-air his mouth opened to emit a scream of surprise. Tharaei, quick to respond this time, clapped his other hand firmly over Erik's mouth and muffled all sound from the Dwarf. On landin, the mage cloaked them in his stealth and roughly pulled Erik down in a crouch. They were merely ten feet from Sarah and the Illidari.

"Don't  _iv_ er dae that again!" Erik hissed at the Night Elf.

"Ok. I'll let you  _drown_ next time." There was a playful smirk at the corner of Tharaei's mouth.

Their attention was drawn to the centre of the island where the deafening whirr of a portal was escalating. It's green centre widened and they just heard the demon hunter laugh before she pushed Sarah through then followed after.

Erik, was off again, but this time Tharaei caught him and pulled him back. "No!" The Dwarf was caught off guard by the severity in the elf's voice. 

Tharaei inclined his head in apology for being so stern. His voice once more adopted the characteristic lilt of the Night Elves. "I need you to watch my back, Erik."

The Dwarf was stunned. "Whit? Yer gan in there?" His stubby finger pointed to the portal opening.

"As were you, but a moment ago." Tharaei reminded him.

"Aye, but..." Erik was furious, his feet stamping the ground in frustration.

"But nothing, my friend. I need you here for when I come back out. Hopefully I will have Sarah with me. But most likely, some uninvited guests will also follow."

"Ah can help in there though…" Erik insisted jabbing a defiant finger at the portal.

"Please! Your skills are required out here for when we come back. Just try…" The mage hid a smirk. What Erik didn't know, was the young Elf was actually very nervous and trying to put on a brave face.

"Try what?" Erik said gruffly.

The Elf moved towards the portal but did not answer Erik.

"Try what?" he shouted after him again.

Tharaei turned. With a warm smile full of gentle humour he spoke, his voice carrying easily over the drone of the portal. "Try not to shoot us when we come out." Before Erik had a chance to respond, the elf stepped into the swirling mass.

Erik huffed and stamped his foot. He paced back and forth mumbling under his breath. "Cheeky bugger," he growled. He glanced back at the portal. 

The Elf's words started to sink in. Tharaei needed him. He was depending on him to defend against whatever beasties came out of that portal after him. He sighed heavily and nodded a bitter sweet acknowledgement. "Ye take care in there, laddie."

**

Tharael's eyes adjusted to the murk of what appeared by all accounts to be a very dark and deep cavern. 

The floor was cold stone, with a thin covering of patchy soil, the walls damp to the touch. The smell of decay violated the mage's nostrils. His nose crinkled at the offence. 

Something moved to his left, a scurrying of tiny feet. He uttered a Thalassian chant and a small ball of light hovered above his palm illuminating the way ahead. His eyes moved to the sound. A rat was foraging for food. It scuttled over rocks and debris, which on closer inspection revealed skeletal remains. Tharaei shrank back. His silver orbs, opalescent in the glow, looked all around the chamber. 

His heart started to pound as he recognised skulls, vertebrae, ribs and limbs, all in humanoid form. Some were centuries old, picked clean by the resident scavengers. Others, disturbingly more recent.

A sound from deeper in the cavern caught his attention. Voices. His skin prickled. The unmistakable allure of dark energy emanated from the direction of those voices. He moved forward, extinguishing the light and concealing himself within the shadows once more. 

He moved quickly until he saw the receding figures of Sarah and the Demon Hunter. He could see they were following someone, but at this distance he could not make out who. Keeping a safe distance, he continued his pursuit.

He halted behind an old crumbled statue as the others came to a stop. To his relief, Sarah did not appear to be injured. The Illidari seemed in equally good health. What is your game, the mage wondered. They seemed to be waiting for whoever it was they followed to carry out some task. 

He was still too far away to hear any conversation, so he chanced moving closer. He had just slid in behind a fallen pillar when the mysterious individual came into view. 

Instantly, he was rendered motionless as blazing red eyes scanned the area where he crouched in hiding. For all he had never encountered the crippled wizard before, Tharaei knew who he was. Very few didn't. Gul'dan. This was far worse than he had imagined. The Illidari was a cohort to the enemy?

He sank lower until the warlock resumed leading the other two still deeper underground. Thankfully, Tharaei had remained undetected. So, the Demon Hunter had indeed turned out to be treacherous. But to what avail? 

He tried to listen to their conversation but it was still difficult to make out. The acoustics of the environment did not help the situation. He could however make out the inflection in the Demon Hunter's voice. She was brave, he had to give her that, challenging someone as powerful as Gul'dan. He thought he caught the word "deal" yet he was unsure. What sort of deal could she be referring to anyway?

Tharaei focused on Sarah. Although she seemed unhurt, the demon hunter still pulled her along. They followed Gul'dan into the darker recesses of the cave. The mage followed, careful to stay far enough back so as not to fall victim to the Illidari's heightened senses.

They continued downwards where finally the passage opened into what was once a huge chamber. Enormous sections of stone lay scattered haphazardly; pillars, statues once of titanic proportions, all crumbled, some merely powdered rock. Whatever had caused their collapse had also resulted in long, deep cracks in the floor. They stretched to the far walls like veins of a gargantuan beast, slain in its sleep.

Gul'dan led them into yet another chamber. This one was although in a marginally better condition than the last, was smaller in circumference. The walls however, reached high; so high there was nothing but a murky blackness beyond the soft effervescent glow from the fel energy pulsing in Gul'dan's hand.

It also had one other thing the previous chamber lacked. An enormous green crystal, suspended by chains rippling in fel energy. Within the crystal, a figure. It was between seven and eight foot tall, muscular and had tattoos that blazed even brighter than the crystal itself. With the enormous horns and wings of a demon, it was unmistakably Illidan Stormrage. The Betrayer.

Tharaei remained just outside the entrance to the room. He would be able to hear quite plainly now, the dynamics having altered dramatically from the structure of the room. He shifted to get a better look at Sarah. She appeared mesmerised by the crystal and its occupant, standing in silent awe of the leader of the Illidari; the fluctuating flare of the great Demon Hunter's tattoos seemingly holding her in some sort of trance.

"My Lord!" The female Demon Hunter wailed and ran to the crystal where she threw herself prostrate at its base. Gul'dan turned his attention to Sarah and he shuffled closer to her. His approach was interrupted as the Illidari spoke out. "You promised! You said he was of no importance to you, that if I delivered her, you would release him."

Gul'dan laughed menacingly as he faced her. "Foolish female. He is of no importance to me, you are right. He is but mere currency. A means to an end. He belongs to the Legion, as he has always done."

"He will never serve the Legion!" Arcaena screamed.

Tharaei's brow furrowed. He was confused. She had betrayed Sarah, yet she still maintained the Betrayer was sworn enemy to the Burning Legion? He pressed up against the stone doorjamb to make sure he did not miss any vital information.

Gul'dan's guttural laughter was truly unnerving. "I could not care what happens to your precious lord. He is just my bargaining chip."

"You try to outwit the Legion?" The female pushed herself up. She glanced at Sarah.

"Try? I have succeeded! That creature …" he hissed, pointing a gnarled finger at the fel-encased Stormrage twin. "… is not where Sargeras thinks he is. But I will convince him that here is better. He will have his little puppet soon enough."

Arcaena walked in front of Sarah and turned to face the orc with her hands behind her. Tharaei was maybe mistaken, but he thought she was trying to signal to Sarah. "No!" Arcaena said defiantly. "Lord Illidan will fight the Legion until his dying breath, as will all his Illidari."

The mage watched, his breath hitching as he noticed Sarah trying to inch towards the doorway where he remained hidden. That's it, he thought encouragingly. Keep coming towards me Sarah.

The orc guffawed. "Pathetic little Demon Hunter. He may never breathe again but she..." The red eyes looked past the demon hunter and fixed on Sarah. A cruel sneer split the crease of the orc's mouth. Sarah froze, her progress to the exit halted. Tharaei inwardly folded.

Gul'dan shuffled towards Sarah and gripping her elbow, pulled her back towards the suspended figure of the Betrayer. "She is much more intriguing. Meddling yes, but useful too."

"Her?" Arcaena spat. "She has no power." She started towards Sarah again.

"On the contrary, she has a very unique power." The orc wizard looked between the two females, obviously enjoying the look of confusion which washed over their faces.

"I – I have no power. None at all," Sarah wheezed. Her eyes stared desperately to the female Illidari.

"You have something I want," Gul'dan said. He flexed his fingers. A renewed ball of fel energy manifested in his hand. Sarah shook her head in denial. The orc enlightened her. "You have the heart of the man who tried to ruin my attempts to enter the Tomb of Sargeras and who foiled my plans for your precious Alliance King."

Suddenly, Arcaena launched herself at the warlock. Without even turning, he made a dismissive gesture with his hand and she was sent reeling back against the green crystal. She impacted with a sickening crunch and was immediately rendered unconscious.

"Arcaena!" Sarah screamed turning to the crumpled form of the female Demon Hunter.

Gul'dan circled her slowly. "You concern yourself over one who betrayed you?"

Sarah stood perfectly still as the grotesque orc closed in on her. "I understand why she did it now," she answered a little breathlessly.

Again Gul'dan's laughter echoed menacingly around the chamber. "You creatures and your fluttering hearts. It is what weakens you. Breaks you. Look, if you do not believe me," he gestured towards Arcaena.

"You are wrong, Gul'dan!" Sarah's voice was breaking.

"Am I?" He continued circling her. "Let's put that to the test shall we."

The elf mage was helpless. He knew he was no match for the orc. All he could do was watch and listen.

"Do you propose to smash me against a wall also?" Sarah asked Gul'dan, inching back towards the fel crystal.

"Oh, I have a much greater purpose for you."

From the shadows, Tharaei shuddered.

"I give you ... a choice." The warlock grinned.

Sarah buckled slightly but maintained her stance. "Choice?"

"I have been watching you. You have thwarted certain plans of mine already, namely the King of Stormwind as I mentioned. You have given hope to the Alliance, when there should have only been despair. The Legion will take care of Azeroth, have no doubt about that. It will burn."

"What choice, Gul'dan!" Sarah's voice quivered but still, it possessed some of her sass.

He waited, long enough for the fear to build in her. "Deliver your precious Khadgar to me, or watch your own world burn. The Legion will take whatever world it desires and the way to yours is now open."

The elf mage could hear Sarah's sharp intake of breath. "Never!" she hissed.

Gul'dan flexed his gnarled fingers and the glow of the fel flame strengthened in his palm. "Then the alternative will not be pleasant."

Tharaei knew he had no chance to defeat the warlock on his own and an attempt now would only endanger Sarah more. He hoped she had the nerve to keep talking and delay any action the orc was planning, for he had to get back to the portal. He had to get help.


	19. FOR THE LOVE OF ILLIDAN

"You have chosen wisely, Outsider." Gul'dan's sinister laugh echoed throughout the chamber as he manipulated a fel-fire ember within his hand.

Crippled he may have been, but the orc warlock was still enormous; his bulk added to by the horrific deformation of cortical protrusions from his shoulders and gnarled spine. His hands, huge and calloused were capable of delivering insurmountable pain; be it through the dark magic he bent to his will, or the torn and ragged nails which could easily gouge troughs in your flesh - or remove an eye. His face, aged and weathered was made all the more monstrous by the yellowed tusks. Set in gums blackened and poisoned from the fel they jutted out from his jaw. 

But most terrifying of all were the eyes. Red piercing orbs animated by the power he'd absorbed and nurtured over the years. They looked out upon the world with unadulterated hate and a burning need to tyrannize all who opposed him.

Sarah stared at the fel-casing in the centre of the room. The Betrayer remained suspended, silent, motionless in his crystalline prison while his misguided disciple lay crumpled at his feet. Even Sarah had to admit Arcaena had been a fool to think the warlock would honour his word and even more foolish to think she could have bested him in a fight. Honour was not in Gul'dan's vocabulary nor was loyalty or devotion. Only hate and death.

The telltale whoosh and pop of a nearby portal announced the arrival of Gul'dan's nemesis. Sarah had suspected it wouldn't take long for Khadgar to appear, but still, the suddenness with which he arrived took her by surprise. Then again, she should have known, time is of the essence with the Archmage.

He moved quickly to her side, shielding her from the warlock who already had his fel-fire primed. Khadgar put a protective wall of ice between them. "Run, Sarah! I will deal with Gul'dan. Get to safety."

"No! Come with me!" She pulled at his sleeve.

The Archmage shook his head. The seriousness of their predicament was clearly stated in the fierce glow of his steel eyes. "Sarah! I need you to find your way out of here. Now, do as I say!"

His authoritative tone left no room for argument. Loathed though she was to leave him, she stepped back, turned and started to run.

An ear-splitting roar of agony halted her in her tracks. She spun around. Her eyes filled with horror. The ice wall was disintegrating, lying in shards, splinters and pools. Crouched before Gul'dan, Khadgar was engulfed by the luminescent green of the warlock's fel energy.

Sarah screamed. "No!" It was the Broken Shore all over again, but now, it was real and the victim this time was the man she had come to love.

Gul'dan stood over the Archmage weaving the fel, guiding the poison through its victim. The orc's cracked, dry lips curled in a snarl of delicious victory.

Khadgar, desperately trying to withstand the fel, turned slowly towards Sarah. "Run!" he cried, his face contorted in pain as the foul ether seeped into his very skin; distorting him; altering him.

Sarah stumbled back as she witnessed demonic growths, gouging, bursting their way through his forehead. She could hear his skull splitting, cracking over his desperate screams as it was violently forged to bear the weight of gigantic horns which twisted and pushed their way out of his cranium. 

His steel orbs bulged then popped and slithered down his cheeks. They dangled for a few seconds on their optic nerves then dropped to the ground in small gelatinous pools of mush. A mixture of blood and fel streamed from his empty sockets, dripping onto his collar guard. Like acid, it carved its way through the toughened leather and the protective armour was shed from his frame.

Continuing its voracious journey the poison poured down over his robes. His tunic was flayed from his body, his flesh ripped and mutilated as the fel burned deep into his torso, shoulders and arms. 

The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, violating Sarah's nostrils and tearing her eyes.

Khadgar roared again, the sound reverberating around the chamber. Such agony was deeper than just physical pain, it had reached his soul, tearing it apart also.

Sarah clasped her hands over her ears, all to no avail. What have I done! She folded. The sharp impact of her knees on cold, unforgiving stone was not even acknowledged in light of the terrifying transformation before her. Tears sprang, blurring her vision.

Try as she might, she could not tear her eyes from Khadgar's ravaged body. It was being warped, marked and contorted beyond recognition.  His screams escalated, making his torture clearly visible in her mind's eye. There was no escape. No sanctuary from this hideous ordeal.

"Khadgar!" she wailed.

The mutation continued. Merciless, relentless. Snapping of muscle, bone and tissue was heard clearly over the continuing cries of agony from the man she loved. The thunderous roar of the fel reached its climax, weaving its poison to the extremities of the Archmage's body; twisting his fingers into razor-sharp talons, his legs and feet into the cloven-hoofed attributes of a satyr.

Another deafening roar of pain as the skin on his back tore like a wet canvas being rent by a dull blade. The skeletal conformation of wings pushed up and outward. Their emergence was slow and deliberate, tearing his flesh even further. Demon hide rippled between the newly-formed limbs, its surface glistening, slick with blood and oozing fel as the wing membrane developed. 

Suddenly, they snapped open. They pulsed and fleshed out as capillaries and veins carried the noxious green substance throughout the appendages.

Exhaustion was taking its toll on the man who was once Archmage Khadgar. His cries gradually quietened. Finally, his chest settled into the deep, rhythmic breathing of one who had just undergone a truly monstrous transformation.

Sarah wept into her hands, her sobs echoing around the cavern, mingling with the triumphant laughter of the orc wizard. 

Her eyes lifted to the crouching form a few feet in front of her. Her love was gone. Obliterated. Erased. The handsome features of the silver-haired Archmage had been replaced by... No!!

...Illidan!

With a grunt, the mighty Demon Hunter, Lord of Outland, Leader of the Illidari rose to his full height. He flexed his muscles as the enormous leathery wings unfurled, opening to their impressive twenty-foot wingspan. "Free!" he roared. "At last."

Sarah fell to the side, shocked to her core. A strangled sound escaped her throat. 

Illidan looked askance. Frozen to the spot, Sarah watched as he slowly turned his enormous physique towards her. The purple skin rippling over an insanely muscular frame, was beaded with perspiration and the residue from the mutation of human to demon elf. 

His knuckles cracked as he flexed his taloned hands. The luminescent tattoos flared over the massive planes of his chest as they came into view.

Something else, however, caught her eye. The felblood crystal at the centre of the chamber was still intact. It was not however, vacant. She gasped. 

Inside. A body.

Khadgar! She stared in disbelief at the figure of the man she thought dead. His entire body, fully clothed, unmarked, perfect, resided within the crystal. Frozen. Suspended. But whole.

She scrambled to her feet, keeping a close eye on the leader of the Illidari. His attention was now tuned in to Gul'dan who stood to his right, laughing quietly as he marvelled at his masterpiece. 

With her heart pounding, Sarah skirted around the Betrayer, keeping low and made her way towards the crystal. She was almost past Illidan when a taloned hand caught her arm. 

Her head snapped up and she stared into the runecloth bindings which covered the once beautiful amber eyes had beheld a very different world. The fel-infused mephitis snaked its way up from the blindfold, vanishing in wisps over his black mane and gigantic horns.

She glanced over her shoulder. Khadgar was still housed within the crystal. She  _had_ to reach him.

Illidan's baritone boomed through the cavern. "You are mine now, Outsider."

"No! No!" She fought against his grip, trying to peel his fingers off her arm. He was too strong. She looked again at the Archmage, panic building in her heart.

Without warning a searing pain crossed her chest. Her eyes looked down. A glow from under her shirt started to pulse. She felt her skin blistering, something was carving its way across her breasts. She screamed. Over and over.

Illidan raised his other hand and struck her. Still, she screeched. He hit her again. She could feel the talons rake her cheek. Again…

**

"Wake up!" Slap. "Sarah! Wake up!"

Her eyes sprang open. Arcaena crouched over her, one hand raised ready to strike. It took a good few moments for her mind to adjust. 

"No! No!" She flailed her hands at the Demon Hunter and propelled herself back until she slammed against the jagged rock. The impact winded her. Her breathing was ragged; her face wet with tears.

Wild-eyed and still disorientated, Sarah glanced around to gauge where she was. She clawed at the stone beneath her, her nails raking the hardened surface. Jerking her head left, right, up and down she registered the cavern. They were still in the chambers where Gul'dan had led them, but there was no sign of the warlock anymore. 

She glanced down at her chest – the memory of something burning her skin flooded her mind. She clasped her breasts then pulled at her t-shirt looking down to see what damage there was. Nothing! Her skin was unblemished.

Another thought - more powerful still. Khadgar! She had left him in the fel-blood prison. She whimpered, clawing the ground again checking all around her.

"You were dreaming," Arcaena whispered, creeping nearer.

Sarah's eyes fixed on the Demon Hunter. For a few moment, she just stared at her, her mind still trying to compute what had happened. "Khadgar!" She breathed. "He is trapped."

"No," Arcaena said softly. "Sarah, you have been dreaming. Khadgar is not here."

"But … Gul'dan," Sarah wheezed, shaking her head, trying to focus. "And Illidan and …" 

Then it started to flood back. Arcaena's betrayal. Her body smashed on the green crystal. Gul'dan's twisted form. Fel energy in front of her face. 

"You!" Sarah lashed out."You deceived me. You sold me to Gul'dan!"

Arcaena lowered her head. Something akin to the sound of weeping escaped the Demon Hunter's lips. "Yes! And I am sorry. Truly! I ... I thought I could save my master. My Lord ... my lo..." She stopped, her breath caught in a sob. Her hands covered her heart and she drew herself into a tight ball.

Sarah took a deep breath. She was stunned at the Illidari's apology.  And her confession. Gul'dan's mocking words echoed in her mind, "You creatures and your fluttering hearts."

She tentatively put her hand on Arcaena's shoulder. She said softly. "You are in love with him, aren't you? You did this for the love of Illidan?"

The Illidari sniffed, dragging her arm over her snot filled nose. "Yes." She breathed, tilting her head towards Sarah. "I thought I could bring him back to us. I knew Gul'dan had him and he knew I would do anything to get my Lord back."

Sarah, having gathered herself, allowed Arcaena a few moments to do likewise. "When? How did you…?"

The Illidari continued to rock herself back and forth. She swallowed loudly then continued. "On the Broken Isles. When Gul'dan and that bitch Cordana took his body, he sensed the torment I felt. He cast that vile eye of Kilrogg to locate me once he knew we were in Stormwind."

"But how…?"

Arcaena's head snapped up, her hatred for the warlock making her more like her normal self again – sharp, agile, fast, strong. "He sees all, Sarah. His anger over Khadgar's interference during his bid to open the Tomb of Sargeras was fuelled even more when the Archmage rescued King Varian and helped in our release."

The pieces started to slot together. Arcaena had been but a pawn in Gul'dan's game of chess. "Then you sensed the fel on me?"

Arcaena nodded. "Then the scent of sex on you and …"

"Okay!" Sarah waved her hand in front of her. There was no need to continue, she got the gist. She shivered. It was cold in the cavern. She wanted to be out of there but she needed to know how they had arrived where they were now. She asked Arcaena to explain.

"I stirred from the base of the crystal and heard the ultimatum Gul'dan gave you. I saw the fel in his hand. You had passed out. He was going to infuse you with it, so I grabbed you and ran."

"You ...  _grabbed me_  ...and ran. Just like that. From Gul'dan." Sarah clearly found her escape story a little hard to swallow for all she knew the Illidari were capable of incredible speeds. That was all well and good, but to have been knocked unconscious and then suddenly regain such powers, had to be some achievement even for a Demon Hunter.

"I recover very fast," Arcaena offered in light of Sarah's aporetic expression. The Demon Hunter grabbed Sarah's hands, the sudden gesture taking her by surprise. "I was foolish," she pleaded. "I have dishonoured my Lord and my fellow Illidari. I have failed my love but I could not allow Gul'dan to do that to you too."

Sarah flinched. "Did you think I would serve Khadgar up like a roast dinner?" Her brow furrowed, incensed that anyone would think her capable of such a heinous act.

Arcaena shrunk back in shame. "No! Not intentionally. But if Gul'dan had used the fel..."

The Demon Hunter had made a valid point. Sarah had no idea what properties fel truly contained and especially not in the hands of the infamous warlock. She had only seen its destructive component on a computer screen, the effect of which must have triggered the dream inside the cavern.

The women stilled as the distant mocking laughter of Gul'dan echoed through the underground rooms. Green light flickered deeper in the caverns, painting the walls with its eerie glow and creating disturbing shadows in its wake.

"We must make haste, Sarah. It is not only Azeroth the Legion threatens, but your homeland too. That much I did not deceive you about. The fissure I showed you, is indeed a doorway to your world."

Sarah nodded. "I gathered that. Gul'dan told me as much." Uncertain if the Demon Hunter could really be trusted, she nonetheless decided to give her the chance to redeem herself. Besides, she needed help to get out of wherever they were, and in the dark, it was near impossible for her to navigate on her own through all the fallen stone and rubble.

"Do not let me down Arcaena," she said, looking directly into the bandaged sockets.

"I won't. I promise you."

Together, they made their way back to the portal.


	20. A PRINCELY DECISION

"There!" Arcaena said as they turned a corner in the caverns. The swirling centre of the portal lay directly ahead, its shimmering light on the wet cavern walls, like the reflection of ripples from an underground pool.

Sarah sighed with relief. As they had moved further away from where Gul'dan lurked, the subtle illumination afforded by his fel energy had died, leaving them in complete blackness. 

She had depended entirely on the Demon Hunter to pick their way through the various rooms and corridors. Clinging to Arcaena's arm all the way and listening to her expert direction on where to step, had not removed the nervous flinches of one who was suddenly "blind"; thrust into an inky darkness as black as night.

Thankful to finally have some light, however faint, Sarah started boldly ahead. Her confident stride was soon broken when the way underfoot crumbled and powdered beneath her feet. She glanced down and was mortified to see she had not been walking over shale as she first thought, nor even small rocks, but the skeletal remains of long forgotten heroes. 

Arcaena, seeing the look of horror on her face, caught her elbow and steered her towards the portal.

The two women exited hurriedly and came face to face with a line of Stormwind Guards. Long steel pikes were assembled in battle formation, ready to impale whatever demonic creature emerged. Arcaena grabbed Sarah, preventing her from being skewered.

"Sarah!" Two voices said simultaneously. Tharaei and Erik came running towards them. The mage eyed the Demon Hunter with suspicion. "What is she doing here?" His normally placid silver eyes narrowed, his distrust giving the orbs a keen edge.

"Steady! What's up with you?" Sarah put a gentle hand on his chest, warding him off and guarding Arcaena.

"We saw what she did!" Tharaei explained, his eyes still narrowed at the demon hunter. Erik stood growling next to the mage.

Arcaena adopted a defensive stance, her talons flexing, wings rippling and snapping. A couple of the guards at the front of the troupe looked at her warily then glanced nervously at each other. They were obviously cadets, their young fresh faces peering nervously out from under the burgonet-styled plate helms. 

The Demon Hunter hissed, causing them to emit small shrieks and flinch back towards their fellow soldiers. Their colleagues' low laughter didn't help the nervous youngsters.

Sarah huffed. It was like watching a predator toying with its food. "Please! Arcaena!"

The Illidari sighed, but stood straight and managed to look less threatening for all she towered over the guards. She made the smallest of movements forward and the cadets shrieked again. A small smirk played on Arcaena's lips.

Sarah's attention turned back to Tharaei and Erik. "I will explain things in a while. But I have to ask, what on earth are you and the guards doing here?"

"Oo followed ye!" The dwarf said.

"You what? Why?"

Erik got all defensive next, stabbing an accusatory finger towards Arcaena. "Because o' hur and hur sniffin' ye and flyin' o'er the Keep's battlements an' a'thing!" His eyes scrunched up under his bushy brows. "The lad here," he indicated Tharaei, "sensed there wis summat odd aboot hur."

"Your pet?" Arcaena scoffed. Sarah threw her a warning look. The Demon Hunter responded with an indignant placing of hands on hips and tilt of her head.

"Pet! Erik growled. "Ah'll buggerin' show ye whae's ..."

"Enough!" Sarah suddenly barked. Everyone stared at her, the two nervous guards included. Once the animosity seemed dampened, she indicated for Erik to continue.

"Ah went and got the guards!" Erik said quickly, desperate to get his side of the story out. "Oo saw the twae of ye gan in ... actually yin o' ye was pushed..." He growled at Arcaena again. 

The Demon Hunter simply tutted and looked away. 

"Tharaei followed ye in tho'," Erik's voice lowered with marked respect. "He saw that vile creature Gul'dan an' he heard whit he said tae ye."

Sarah gaped. That fully explained the mage's animosity and that of his growling sidekick. "You came in after me?" she asked Tharaei. The Night Elf nodded, a little coyly.

"And ah stayed oot here, ready to save ye a' ...well apart frae hur..." Erik glared at the Illidari. "Only, the lad came oot alone, so ah went and got the guards at Goldshire as they were nearest."

Sarah was truly touched that the two of them had sought to protect her. And she was equally annoyed with them. She scowled. They themselves could have been seriously hurt. Further discussion could wait until they were back at the Keep.

"Look!" Arcaena pointed to the portal. It was shrinking. The warlock was closing it from within the cavern.

Sarah was immensely relieved although in all honesty she had seriously doubted he was going to come after them anyway. Somehow, she suspected he let them escape. It was a two-sided blade though. 

On one hand, it gave them time to form a strategy on how they were going to deal with the orc and his armies. He had revealed Azeroth would not be the only world subjugated to the might of the Legion; he had a new target now, as well. Earth. 

The other, not so encouraging side of the blade, of course, was it also gave the warlock time to plan. They all watched as the portal continued to shrink then with a singular snap, it was gone.

There were some sighs of relief amongst the guards. Politely, Sarah assured them all was well and they could return to their posts. She promised to notify Prince Anduin of their bravery at coming to her rescue. They duly turned and in perfect unison marched back towards Goldshire, their plate armour clanking as they moved.

Once out of earshot she focused on her immediate company. It was obvious the mage and Dwarf hunter did not take to Arcaena, and she supposed their misgivings were justified in light of what they had witnessed. 

Nevertheless, during their journey back through the tunnels and passages in the underground caverns, her own doubts about the Demon Hunter were brushed aside. Arcaena had more than just helped her through the darkness, she had been almost attentive, understanding Sarah's panic at not being able to see anything in the pitch black and guiding her with an almost sisterly care. 

Perhaps their devotion to two of probably the most powerful males in Azeroth had somehow bonded them. She knew not, but she was willing to put her faith in Arcaena. And she needed her other friends to feel the same way about her.

"Now, boys," she started. Erik's brows disappeared into his hairline at the term and Tharaei looked about himself implying she must have meant someone else. "Arcaena is on our side..."

Erik started to protest but Sarah held up a warning finger. He huffed, but kept his mouth closed as she continued. "She showed me a rip in the sky. That rip leads to my world. My home. Gul'dan confirmed this; I don't know if you heard that part of the conversation Tharaei, but that's the facts."

The mage nodded. Erik and Tharaei looked at each other, then glanced over at Arcaena. The Demon Hunter stood facing them, silently, almost respectfully. Sarah continued. "The Legion will decimate any world they can get their hands on and Azeroth is not the only one under threat. Now that the doorway is open to my home they are going to invade that also."

They all fell silent, concerned glances passing between them. Eventually, the mage stepped forward. "May I suggest we return to the Keep? I think it may be prudent to advise Prince Anduin of these developments. He is acting sovereign in King Varian's absence."

Sarah exhaled loudly. She knew help would be needed to prevent the Burning Legion from entering her world. To go to Anduin seeking aid considering the pressure the kingdom was already under in safeguarding their own homes seemed an improbable and highly unreasonable thing to request. 

She felt Tharaei's hand on her arm. She glanced up into the calming pools of his opalescent eyes. He smiled. "You have no choice, Sarah. The way to your world is literally on our doorstep and therefore quickly accessible by the Legion. We must speak with the Prince."

"He is right," Arcaena added. They all turned to the Demon Hunter as she crossed the way towards them. "There are invasions all over Azeroth, yes, and many brave souls are battling the foe, but surely there are still some resources available in the event of developments such as this. I can gather the Illidari to help. You should notify Khadgar..."

" _No_!" Sarah said. "No. He is on a mission set by Varian, I do not expect nor want him to disobey his King."

The Dwarf and the mage exchanged a look.

"Fair enough," Arcaena continued. "Allow me to hear what Prince Anduin proposes and then I will rally my people."

Sarah nodded and turned to Tharaei. "Would you do the honours please?"

**

The group poured out of the portal. Sarah's eyes widened when she saw the location of their exit. 

"My bedchamber?" She looked at Tharaei, stark surprise written clearly on her face. 

The mage turned quickly away and pretended there was something of great interest – on a bare wall. Erik grunted and followed suit while Arcaena giggled quietly behind them all.

"I think we had a young spy earlier," the Demon Hunter murmured.

Tharaei was compelled to turn round. Facing Sarah, he explained. "Forgive me. We mages create many portals, yes, but we must first have visited a place before we can portal there. Except of course those of higher status and learning who can go anywhere at all, such as Archmage Khadgar."

"Who can portal in here, too," Arcaena commented, smirking. Even Erik gave way to a small guffaw. Sarah eyed them askance with brow creased and lips tight. The Illidari shrugged and looked away. Erik stared at his feet.

"Right!" Sarah said, determined to move on. "Let's speak with Anduin."

The Keep was an eerie place at night. Their footfalls echoed in the stone corridors no matter how they tried to hush their progress. A few guards were stationed along the way but they stood stock still as the group passed by. 

Sarah at least knew where she was going – the hall where the portraits of the Wrynn dynasty hung. It was only when they reached the start of that corridor that the Royal Guard came alive. 

Four stood at the entrance, two at the very start and another two only a few feet behind. As the group made to enter, the first two guards barred their way, stepping forward and crossing their lances in an 'X'. Sarah looked at the two guards individually.

"We need to speak with Anduin as a matter of urgency." She said. They didn't move nor respond. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends. The Dwarf and mage stared back at her, equally baffled by what to do next. 

She faced the plate-clad guards again. "Please let us pass, we desperately need to speak with his Highness." Still nothing.

Sarah jumped when Arcaena suddenly shot forward, hissing. The guards, however, didn't even flinch. Nor blink. Nor tremble. The guards to the rear, however, stepped forward, their lances at the ready. 

Sarah stretched out her arm in front of the Demon Hunter and gently pushed her back, shaking her head. "No," she mouthed. The Illidari sighed and moved to the back of the group again.

"By Muradin's beard, they're good," Erik whispered to Tharaei, nodding in the direction of the guards.

"I am a guest of his Highness, and these are his friends," Sarah tried again. "I am sure he will be less than pleased that you stand in the way of important news which involves an imminent attack from the Burning Legion in neighbouring Goldshire."

That at least got a response. The guards at the rear leaned towards the first two and whispered. A nod of heads. The rear two turned and marched quickly along the corridor while the others remained stationed, lances still crossed.

A few minutes later, Anduin came along the corridor, pulling on his jacket and straightening his collar, flanked by the guards who went to fetch him. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Arcaena behind the others. "Sarah!" he said pushing aside the crossed lances. 

The two front guards resumed their original stance at the entrance to the corridor. "What is this about Goldshire?" He reached out and clasped her hands. "By the light, you are frozen!"

She was momentarily taken aback. She had not realised how cold she still was since she stepped back into the Keep. She smiled wistfully. "I will be fine. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

The Prince's blue eyes looked around the group and back to Sarah. "Of course. Come." He ushered them forward.

The rear guards accompanied the group as the Prince led them to the war room. He asked Tharaei if he could furnish a little more light in the room. The mage was more than happy to oblige. 

The Prince then ordered the guards to wait outside. Closing the double doors, he turned and joined his friends around the large table in the centre of the room. His eyes rested on Arcaena. He nodded in greeting. The Demon Hunter inclined her head in a show of respect.

Anduin then gave his undivided attention to Sarah. "Tell me what is going on then, Sarah."

She could tell by his face he would believe whatever she told him. Somehow, she had earned his complete trust. It was with a very generous helping of diplomacy that she delivered her account of the night's events. As she described the portal and the encounter with Gul'dan the Prince's gaze once more drifted to Arcaena. He said nothing while Sarah continued, but his eyes construed much.

"I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I don't know what else to do," she concluded.

Anduin looked at her. For a few moments he said nothing, but it was obvious he was contemplating what he just had been told. 

His mouth formed a reassuring smile. "It goes without saying that I shall help in keeping your world safe. You played an invaluable role in the safe return of my father, and your information about the sheer magnitude of what we would face has helped all of Azeroth prepare better for this war." 

He glanced at Arcaena then spoke directly to her. "If Sarah trusts you, then so do I. We shall pool forces, Arcaena. I will organise what we need here, you must now go and ready your Illidari."

Sarah turned to Arcaena. Her eyes pleaded for some sign of corroboration from her. The Demon Hunter's lop-sided smile awarded her the reassurance she needed. With a deep bow, Arcaena took her leave and exited the room.

"Now then," Anduin continued. "I suggest you go to the kitchens for some hot beverages and food. It will help warm you after your ordeal."

Erik and Tharaei bowed to both Anduin and Sarah before turning to leave. "That was an invitation to the both you, also." The Prince shouted after them.

"Oh! Well, that's awfy gid o' ye, yer Highness," Erik said with a large grin shifting his beard.

"Not at all. We must cater for all our heroes. I will also see to accommodation for you."

The Dwarf nudged Tharaei and his beady eyes twinkled with pride.

"I will instruct what needs to be done Sarah and I will speak also with High Priestess Tyrande and Archdruid Malfurion." He grinned as he saw a slightly nervous twitch play at the corner of Sarah's mouth. "We are all on the same side Sarah. And I shall let Khadgar know also..."

"No!" Sarah said, a little more forcefully than she had intended. The memory of him being suspended in a fel-blood crystal still haunted her for all she knew it was a dream. Besides, she genuinely did not want to detract from his mission. It too would no doubt be critical in the fight against the Burning Legion. 

She lowered her voice a little. "I do not think it would be prudent to call him back from the task your father has set him on. He will have much to deal with as it is."

The Prince's eyes narrowed just a little, but he quickly smiled. "Alright, as you wish. Now, go get something to eat, then sleep. It has been a long day."

She nodded. "Yes, and there are longer ones to come I fear."

"Of that, I have no doubt, but we will work together. All of Azeroth shall."

He turned her towards Erik and Tharaei and escorted them all to the doors. Once he saw them disappear down the hall to the kitchens, he ordered the guards to rouse the High Priestess and Archdruid. He then returned to the war room and wrote out missives to allies who would come to the aid of Goldshire.

**

Over a light supper, Sarah and Erik spoke further about the turn of events. Trying hard to be positive, she surmised that they may well have been put into an advantageous position. She surmised that in order for him to carry out his threat Gul'dan would have to pool resources from the designated areas of attack currently happening. 

She doubted that would be given Kil'jaeden's and Sargeras' stamp of approval considering this assault had taken not just years, but aeons, since the time of the War of the Ancients to plan. 

Gul'dan needed the demonic army to come to Goldshire, because that was where the only gateway to her home existed. It would, therefore, take time for him to coagulate enough forces to deliver his threat. That, in turn, gave the Alliance some much needed time to prepare.

Tharaei had been very subdued during their discussions. He had sat quietly, with elbow bent he leaned thoughtfully on his long elegant fingers as he listened to the two of them talking. "What's wrong?" Sarah asked.

The Elf shifted on his seat. "Nothing. I was just mulling over what you were saying."

She wasn't sure, but she thought there was something amiss.

"Ye realise of course," Erik said, chomping his way through some freshly baked bread and aged mild cheddar, "... once Khadgar gets to hear about this, he's going to go ballistic!"

"He won't know," Sarah said confidently. That subject had already been addressed.

Erik stopped in mid-munch and looked sideways at Tharaei. Sarah caught their exchange. A sense of dread started at her feet and worked its way steadily upwards. "What! What are you not telling me?"

The Elf looked utterly perturbed and glanced once more at Erik.

Her fears were confirmed in the look which passed between the two friends. "You didn't!" she breathed.

Tharaei, no longer able to remain quiet, explained. "When Erik assembled the guards to help, I asked if anyone knew where the Archmage was. They told me. So, I sent a letter to Dalaran for his attention."

Sarah flopped back in her chair, a sigh of slight relief escaped her. "Well, if the mail service here is anything like in my world, it will take at least forever to reach Dalaran."

Another glance passed between the partners in crime. "What!" she demanded of them.

"I teleported the letter." The Elf whispered.


	21. WHATEVER IT TAKES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mature content of a sexual nature.

With King Varian and his armies fighting in the north against continual Legion invasions, it was anticipated the battles would be arduous and long. Prince Anduin, therefore, had the unenviable task of rallying resources to stand against the pending assault on Goldshire, and indubitably Sarah's home, Earth. 

It was not being made easy for him. Resistance from some of the factions was hard to penetrate. Their take on the Earth woman was still out for debate. Her claim of having been "warned" by Gul'dan, even though her predictions up until now had proven accurate, was met with a high degree of suspicion.

Representatives of the associations who had been summoned, arrived at the Keep by the time dawn revealed the horizon. 

The Stormpike Guard, veteran defenders, native to the Alterac Mountains headed a small procession towards the double doors of the war room. Predominantly Dwarves, they nonetheless had the token Night Elf, Human and Gnome among their numbers.

The occasional whoosh and pop of portals echoed through the corridors depositing individuals such as members of the Kirin Tor. With them came The Violet Eye, a subsidiary faction of the Dalaran magi. Chiefly Human and in their flowing robes of purple, gold and white, they proceeded with an air of imperiousness through the doors where the acting sovereign awaited them.

The temperature dropped considerably in the halls when two death gates, portals of the Knights of the Ebon Blade, opened into the Keep. Death Knights, whose frosty personas emulated their cold re-animated bodies, stepped through. Theirs was a mixed bag of individuals, ranging from the seven-foot tall Night Elves, who crossed the halls in long, fluent strides to the small, but infinitely deadly, three and a half foot Gnomes who trundled with considerable ease on the heels of their comrades. Their black armour flashed with the remaining light of the candelabras. They all came to a silent halt inside the war room.

Among the last to enter were priestesses of Elune, all equally fine warriors and hunters as well as devout disciples of the goddess. They were led by Tyrande, whose beauty and elegance was surpassed only by her formidable huntress abilities.

Close behind her, came her husband Malfurion, heading up an entourage from a cross-section of the druidic organisations, including the Cenarion Circle, Expedition, Farstriders and Grove.

Once all assembled, the doors were closed and guards stationed themselves outside in the hallway.

All eyes turned to Anduin. The Prince studied the map of Azeroth on the table in front of him; his eyes scanning the many pins which denoted the confirmed sightings of Legion invasions. The numbers were growing by the day as were the casualties to the Alliance armies. He knew what he was about to ask of these men and women would give rise to his authority being questioned.

Anduin looked up at the faces staring at him. Deciding to just cut to the crux of the matter, he inhaled and focused on steadying his voice. "There is a rip in the sky over Stone Cairn Lake. It was unforeseen and, up until now, an unnoticed aftereffect of the forced entry into the Tomb of Sargeras by the orc wizard Gul'dan. This rip, fissure, leads to another world. It is the homeworld of Sarah Metcalfe, the woman most of you should now know as having been instrumental in aiding the survival of our King. We believe it is how she came to be here on Azeroth."

Murmurings rippled across the room along with the shuffling of feet, and the clink of plate and steel. From the darkened recess to the Prince's left, a pair of blue eyes watched keenly over the gathered peers.

Anduin continued. "Goldshire is one of the next regions on the Legion's plan of attack, and with it, the homeworld of Sarah Metcalfe. I am going to defend it with your help. Not only will we fight for our land but also that of Sarah's."

Voices raised, protestations escalated. "We do not have the time nor the resources to be trifling about an unknown land in some distant universe," someone said from the back of the room. Other voices also grunted their reluctance to bear arms for a foreign world.

The blue eyes in the recess rippled gold then back to blue.

"We do not have the time nor the resources?" the Prince repeated. "Yet one alien woman came to us and made it her mission to aid ours."

Silence. 

"Am I to understand that our honour is only befitting that of our needs, our survival and our world? Is it possible that you view the fate of others, who have proven their loyalty by aiding us during our time of need, as  _trivial_?"

"Forgive us Sire, but perhaps our misgivings are indicative of these troubled times." A voice came from the rear of the room. Heads turned as Archmage Modera stepped forward. "I humbly put it to you that we should evidence the liability and loyalty of this … Sarah woman."

Prince Anduin eyed her steadily. A very serious woman, the Archmage believed the Kirin Tor had the answers to everything; they were the elite after all. Inclined to lean towards the tried and tested and rules made by her association, she was always supremely suspicious of anything which had not been approved by the magi. She also possessed an unshakable sense of self-importance.

High Priestess Tyrande stepped forward. "I believe a member of your faction has already done that, Modera. Am I to understand there is a lack of communication within your group?" The Kal'dorei's impassive expression was set in its usual alabaster perfection.

You could have heard a pin drop within the room of plate and mail-clad individuals. Modera's eyes narrowed but she forced a tight smile. "On the contrary, Khadgar has notified us of his findings. However …"

"However nothing," Tyrande injected. "I admit I was not enamoured by the woman, to begin with either, but she has indeed contributed valuable information which has served us well."

The Archmage opened her mouth to respond but a voice from the darkened recess spoke out first. "And I will vouch for that." 

Heads turned towards the recess. From the shadows, the wizened, judicious features of Genn Greymane emerged. With his eyes fading from their lupine gold to his human dark blue, the Worgen leader of the Gilnean people approached the Prince's side. 

Anduin offered a customary nod which Genn mirrored and then stood straight, with his hands clasped behind his back. He had the gathering's undivided attention. "I watched our noble monarch as he launched himself from the Skyfire. He slashed his way through an almighty fel-reaver but the demons were closing in on him rapidly. That vile orc was just standing, waiting, for our King to reach him. I have no doubt that Varian would have died - and most horribly - had Sarah not spoken with Khadgar and warned him of the outcome."

There were hushed murmurs. As quiet consultation rippled through the room, Anduin whispered a thank you to Genn. The grey-haired lord inclined his head. "They are wary Anduin, that is not a bad thing, but in this instance, we must spend less time gabbing and get going."

"Agreed," the Prince acknowledged.

"Might I ask … one more question?" the dulcet tones of Modera reached over the thrum of voices. They fell silent again.

Anduin straightened, his youthful face trying to adopt that of a seasoned ruler. He met the woman's questioning gaze. "You may," he said firmly.

"This rip you speak of - how was it discovered to be the gateway to this – Sarah's world?"

It was the question the Prince had hoped would not be asked. The last thing he wanted was to cast aspersions on the Demon Hunters.

The double doors suddenly opened and in swept the Illidari, led by Arcaena. Alongside her, Anduin was surprised but most pleased to see Vindicator Ocel and some accompanying Draenei warriors.

"I found the rip," Arcaena announced to the startled faces which now all looked in the direction of the approaching Demon Hunters and Draenei. The large troupe halted on no more than a hand signal from her. She continued until she was face to face with Modera. 

The Archmage stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated by the towering Illidari. "I can sense even the most minute traces of fel," Arcaena began. "... and that was how I located it. I looked inside and saw a world unlike ours or any we have seen before." 

Although no-one could tell, Arcaena glanced in Anduin's direction. A hint of a smile curved her lips as she enciphered his silence denoted a willingness to let the full story remain unheard.

"And you are?" Modera enquired, trying to maintain an air of superiority.

The Demon Hunter's mouth adopted her characteristic lop-sided grin. "Willing to fight alongside Prince Anduin. Willing to secure Goldshire and prevent invasion of the world where Sarah comes from. Are you?"

A deep rumble of laughter from Ocel was heard to the right of the two women.

Modera however, was not ready to be outdone. "Well then, I suppose safeguarding the rip is advantageous, for it means we can send the Sarah woman home after."

Ocel's laughter ceased. Arcaena seemed to almost take the Archmage's comment as a personal insult, but Anduin intervened. "Then I suggest we all set to work. We may, if we are lucky, have a day or two before the attack. Arcaena!"

"Yes, Your Highness?" the Demon Hunter looked to the young noble.

"May I ask that you and your Illidari keep vigil in Goldshire and inform me of any change to the status quo."

Arcaena inclined her head in respect. "Of course, Highness." With one last lingering look at Modera, she turned and left the room, her Demon Hunters following in quick succession.

"The rest of you, to work," Anduin ordered.

**

Two days passed and Anduin had busied himself with faction leaders and their armies, preparing for battle. 

The Prince showed promising signs as a skilled leader; he consulted his advisers, worked with tacticians on deciding the best means of deployment of their forces, taking into account the weapons of war on hand, their ammunition and sourcing more if needed. He also ensured adequate aid would be available and sufficient supplies for the soldiers even prior to the commencement of the battle. 

He requested and actively sought regular reports on progress from all factions and divisions. The Demon Hunters were also on his agenda for news on current conditions in Goldshire.

Tharaei and Erik had joined with respective forces and were actively involved in preparations. Sarah however, found herself redundant once more. Unable to contribute anything remotely helpful, she found herself dwelling morbidly on coming events.

The realisation that all these individuals were going to help save her world from invasion as well as defend their own sank in. Even the reluctant ones now worked diligently together forming a formidable force to stand against the Burning Legion. But, would it be enough?

Attempting to be practical, she dared assume Sargeras, Kil'jaeden and their minions would be defeated, otherwise, how was Warcraft to continue? Brainless hypothesis! she reprimanded herself. It seemed to denigrate the world which she had come to believe was very real indeed. 

No longer could she bring herself to think that its destiny and that of its people was predetermined by the creators of a video game. She had proven it wasn't after all, by helping change the outcome of the Broken Shore.

Yet, her home was now under threat from an enemy her people considered nothing more than a mass of coloured pixels on a computer screen; a bunch of actors in a film or cartoons in mangas and literary characters in books. 

How could Earthlings (she guffawed as the term now made her own people sound like aliens or fantasy figures) even come to terms seeing Doomguards, Infernals, Felhounds and the likes emerging through a rip in the sky? Their take on such a fluctuation in the fabric of time and space was still looked upon as science fiction. And just how the hell could they hope to defend themselves against such an unknowable weapon as fel energy?

The people of Stormwind had eventually accepted her as one of their own; well almost. The majority had welcomed her, ate, drank, laughed, danced and strolled with her. This felt like a home should feel. 

It was hard hearing about the devastation the Legion left in its wake. The reports of homes destroyed, loved ones missing or killed, families torn apart was just as heart-wrenching as the disasters and wars from her own world. She desperately wished she could do something to stop the horror of the demonic armies.

Then there was the nervous waiting, to see if Tharaei's letter had reached its intended recipient. Early evening of the third day, she found out.

She was alerted by loud voices along the corridor from her chamber. One, unmistakably, was Khadgar's. He wasn't shouting, but his authority was nonetheless being exercised. She could hear orders being issued, guards and brave soldiers being briefed on the situation and the general hustle and bustle of a busy royal household.

She sat on her bed, arms curled around her legs, waiting. What mood is he going to be in? she wondered. Was he going to go ballistic, as Erik predicted? Or was it to be the long silent treatment, before the holier than thou speech?

She counted, One one thousand,

Two one thousand,

Three...

The door opened. She buried her face in her arms, so only her eyes showed over the top. 

He stood tall, strong, worthy of utter adoration. His face was unreadable in the shadows, only the golden glint from the candles reflecting in his eyes. Slowly, he closed the door. 

She watched as he crossed the floor. Her breathing had become shallow, her body tensed. 

He halted a few yards from the bed. "What were you thinking of!" His voice though low was restrained.

She was uncertain how to react. Truthfully, she was even unsure as to what his question referred to. She could only muster a pathetic whimper.

"Gul'dan? Have you even any concept what he is capable of?" Khadgar's voice trembled slightly as he fought to keep his temper at bay.

Her posture relaxed. Hang on a minute! she thought. "Well, I didn't exactly plan on having tea and scones with him!" she answered defiantly.

"You - What?" Khadgar strode over to the side of her bed. When he neared she saw his eyes blazing.

It infuriated her. How dare he accuse her of recklessness. She had been coerced, deceived - not that she was going to say that of course; she had grown fond of Arcaena. "It was an accident," she huffed.

"An accident! I receive a communiqué from some elf who tells me a Demon Hunter kidnapped you and - "

"Tharaei! The Elf's name is Tharaei and he wants you to tutor him. And as for Arcaena, she did not kidnap me, I went willingly!" She said in a rush.

Khadgar's mouth opened then snapped shut. With a grunt he dragged his fingers through his hair, sweeping it from his brow.

Her eyes widened. She liked when he did that. A small grin twitched involuntarily at the corners of her mouth.

The Archmage didn't notice. A look of utter discombobulation was on his rugged features. He turned from her, hands on hips, grumbling to himself. He spun around again. "Damn it, Sarah! You could have been killed and so could this Tha – Thar -"

"Tharaei," she finished for him. Her initial irritation eased. Her grin was spreading.

Khadgar stood silently, just watching her, studying every curve as she relaxed from the tight little ball she had pulled herself into when he'd entered the room. His lips parted, then closed. He took another step closer.

He questioned himself if he should be here; like this. There was no doubt in his mind how he felt about her. But fate could deal cruel blows and steal away whatever you hoped your future held for you. Certain decisions had been required of him. He had chosen. And it would change much. 

But this woman; this vision from another world … Their eyes locked. The second he whispered her name, she ran into his open arms. 

Her closeness overwhelmed him. "Sarah," he breathed. His kiss was forceful. Intense. Hungry. He needed her. Right now.

They pulled at each others' clothing, frustrations running high as some fastenings refused to give way. Driven by a hunger all-consuming, they tore the offending articles from each other, soft laughter escaping as buttons pinged in all directions. 

All barriers finally shed, flesh against flesh, he lifted her to the bed. Limbs entwined, he pinned her arms above her head and fingers interlocked, he made love to her with such hunger, lust, need.

Keeping her wrists pinned with one hand, he caressed the back of her right thigh. Fingers traced her skin gently coaxing her leg higher until her calf rested on his shoulder. 

He slid down. His mouth took her, causing her to gasp. Ever-increasing ripples of passion flooded her body, almost reaching her extremities. He brought her to the brink of fulfilment then pulled away just enough to see the flush spreading over her body. 

She was trembling, almost weeping with anticipation. Her eyes looked down, locking with his. "Please," she whispered. 

He climbed on top of her. Her fingers kneaded his back as he nuzzled her neck just behind her ear. Again, sighs of pleasure left her. She was lifting her hips to meet his, trying desperately to steer him, but he held back. He knew she would tolerate it only for so long. He grinned as he saw the frustration in her eyes. 

Unable to stand it anymore, she coiled her foot under his left leg. Flipping him over, she caught his wrists, pinning him. His soft laughter told her this had been exactly his plan.

"You are indeed a tease, Archmage," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile that held the promise of untold pleasure. "Let us see how you like it." 

She leaned down and brushed her lips on his, and down past his ear to his neck. His pelvis responded. His hands came forward to guide her hips to accept him again, but she caught his wrists and once more pinned them down.

"No!" Her eyes were dark with desire. Her hands moved to his broad pectorals and she began to trace kisses down his torso, her fingers following, delivering light caresses. 

He raised his head from the pillow and watched as she continued with her line of soft kisses down his body. He combed his fingers through her hair, tugging it gently. As she delivered the one lingering kiss he had anticipated he sank back into the pillows, moaning, as her tongue teased relentlessly. He smiled. Hers was a sweet revenge. Now he could not hold back.

With a groan, he pushed himself up and grabbed her upper arms, pulling her towards him. Cupping the back of her neck, he brought her mouth down to meet his. The kiss was deep, full of longing, overflowing with need. He shifted her hips over his. Rising, she allowed him to guide her. She sank onto him. Maintaining a firm hold, he controlled her every grind.

She found her elevation mere seconds before he reached his. She arched, her head lolled, hair cascading over her shoulders and back as the intensity of their passion washed over her entire being. 

He cried out as he flowed inside her and in that moment he was lost. 

Their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Movements slowed, bodies shuddered and glistened in the silken sheen from their ardent lovemaking. Utterly spent, they collapsed into the soft pillows and remained in each other's embrace.

Their rapid breathing gradually slowed and they were unexpectedly serenaded by the sweet song of a nightingale in the city's gardens. 

A contented sigh left Sarah's lips. "I thought you would be angry with me," she whispered, still a little breathless, pulling his arms tighter around her.

His soft laughter reverberated on her back. "Angry? I'm furious. Couldn't you tell?"

She chuckled. "I must make you angry more often, then." She nudged round to face him.

Her response caused his heart to contract. Sarah...he thought, closing his eyes tightly. He gently squeezed her, pulling her deeper into his embrace and planting a kiss on her forehead. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "The thought of what could have happened at the hands of Gul'dan terrified me, Sarah."

She turned her face up to his. "I would never have sacrificed you, no matter what," she said, searching his eyes for any hint of mistrust.

He smiled reassuringly. "I never for a moment thought you would. That's not what I meant. It's your foolhardiness that worries me at times..." 

She feigned insult and playfully pushed him. 

He pulled her close again and laughed softly. A moment later he spoke; his voice soft, and almost melancholy. "Know this, Sarah. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

He studied her face, her warm hazel eyes and her soft full lips. He traced his forefinger down her cheek and over her mouth. His brow furrowed ever so slightly. "I love you," he whispered. It was the first time he had uttered those words and truly meant them. A heartfelt sorrow lay behind the words also, but he masked that from her.

"And I love you," she replied. The words tumbled effortlessly from her mouth, so warm, so sincerely. Nestling close, she relished the warmth of his body, the smell of his cologne. Within seconds she'd slipped into a contented slumber, never having felt so safe and so loved until that moment.

The sound of someone knocking frantically on the door roused the lovers shortly after. Pulling back the covers, Khadgar rose and grabbed a robe. He crossed the room and opened the door just enough to see who demanded their attention. One of the guards bowed and spoke quietly but fervently.

Khadgar leaned against the door as he closed it.

"Is it time?" Sarah asked, dread filling every pore. She pulled the sheet around her.

He nodded. "It has begun." His steel eyes flashed as he turned to look at her. "Gul'dan's portal is opening."


	22. THE BATTLE FOR GOLDSHIRE

The Keep, for all there was much activity, was strangely hushed. Everyone was readying to leave, grabbing armour, weaponry, supplies - yet little chatter other than what was deemed necessary filled the halls and rooms.

Khadgar had joined his fellow Kirin Tor in the war room and was in deep conversation with them. Sarah almost coyly, passed the doorway, glancing in at the magi. She was fixed with a hard stare from a woman in the group. She had a feeling it was the Archmage Modera, for all she had never met her. Another hateful female, she mused. One could get a complex in Azeroth if notching up potential enemies.

She carried on down the hallway. Soldiers marched past, oblivious of her very presence. She had to step quickly out of their way, it seemed as though she would be trampled under plate clad feet if she did not move.

One armoured individual, however, did notice her. He marched confidently forward, four guards, Ocel and Genn at his side. "Anduin!" she gasped. Her eyes roamed over the shining plate armour and sword in its hilt. He carried his helm under his left arm.

The prince stopped as he drew level with her. "Sarah. You must stay within these walls. And I suggest you return to your chamber immediately."

She gaped at him, utterly stunned at his authoritative manner towards her. "Anduin. You can't!"

The Prince's blue eyes darkened. "Can't what, Sarah?"

"You can't go to war! Your father is in the north fighting as it is. We cannot have both of you out battling the Legion. You need to remain in the Keep, oversee things from here."

"No, I need to be out there defending this realm and your home."

"You can defend it from in here!" She was pleading with him not to go. The desperation in her voice hit a note with Genn.

"What has you so concerned, Sarah? Is it some other permutation of battle you wish to induce?" The Gilnean leader although dwarfed by Ocel was every bit as imposing as the esteemed paladin.

She gulped. Aware suddenly of how ineffectual she was, she lowered her eyes. "No, Lord Greymane, I have no more knowledge of coming events. This is now entirely inchoate territory."

Genn grunted then gestured for the Prince to continue. As Sarah's eyes followed them moving down the hall, Ocel held back. "Worry not Sarah Metcalfe. We will keep him safe."

She looked up at the blue-skinned paladin. His angular face although strong and fierce, was nonetheless imbued with gentility and kindness. "I want every last one of you safe, Ocel."

Understanding her concerns, the Dranaei placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. Then with a small smile, he turned and followed the Prince. Dejected and feeling useless, Sarah scuffed the floor with her boot. How she wished she had some sort of skill or power to contribute. What good was she sitting inside these stone walls?

"Sarah." Khadgar's voice made her turn. A short distance behind him she saw the Kirin Tor gathered in the hallway. The Archmage walked up to her. Standing so the others could not see, he took her hands in his. 

The act made her heart clench and an involuntary sob hitched in her throat. Why did this feel so – final? Khadgar spoke softly. "I meant what I said."

She lifted her eyes to his. Her smile was bittersweet. "So did I." She replied. The distance between them was mere inches, yet it felt strangely immeasurable; infinite. A few agonising moments were spent just looking into each other's eyes, hands still clasped. Then, suddenly he released her and rejoined his colleagues.

Her tears spilt as she watched him disappear through a portal.

**

Gryphons and riders arrived near Stone Cairn Lake in droves bringing brave souls prepared for battle with the Legion. Infantry from Westfall marched in perfect unison, joining cavalry which rode in from the opposite direction of Redridge.

Warlocks prepped their demonic gateways for easy teleportation during the fight. This gave them an advantage of rapid manoeuvrability in times where a quick response meant the difference between life or death. They generously created soulwells for their comrades – a means to gain health in times of critical need.

Shamans readied totems for protection, healing and warding, while others infused their powers drawing on the elements for hard-hitting attacks.

Priests prepared to combine their healing abilities. They roamed through the soldiers blessing them with divine hymns and prayers.

Amongst those in the front line, Ocel stood side by side with paladins and Genn with his Worgen warriors. Rogues along with Malfurion's druids were also present each respectively honing claws, axes, swords or daggers to strike at the enemy.

Hunters primed their guns, bows and crossbows to discharge with deadly accuracy. Their wide range of pets growled, snarled and hissed ready for the fight, hungry for blood.

Death Knights epitomised by their cold personas sat poised, hands folded over the pommels of their ice and fire swords. Their skeletal mounts stood shaking long tails and manes which whipped over their emaciated bodies. Icy vapour streamed from their nostrils as they snorted impatience, eager to storm into battle.

And finally, the magi and Demon Hunters led by Khadgar and Kayn Sunfury descended to the field of battle. The fizz and sizzle of suppressed arcane, frost and fire magic could be felt let alone heard.

From their positions, they could plainly see the demons as they started to pour from not one, but a dozen enormous gateways sited around the lake and the fissure that opened to Sarah's homeworld.

Gul'dan stood in front of his portal on Heroes Vigil, a cruel twist playing on his mouth. He was going to enjoy the slaughter. The air filled with an eerie distant screaming. The allied forces looked up. Enormous fel-infused meteors broke through the sky and thundered towards the ground.

Khadgar and the leaders of each military unit signalled for the attack to begin. Battle horns sounded, drums rolled out their marching beats and the forces moved forward. With a roar, the defenders of Azeroth plunged into battle. The sound of steel clashing against steel, the deafening barrage of guns and canons erupted and violated the peaceful surroundings of Elwynn Forest.

The meteors hit their targets sending many soldiers up in the air from the impact. Agonising cries and screams perforated the whistles and thuds from the massive stone constructs as they hit the ground. Bodies were crushed or torn apart as the fallen asteroids birthed gargantuan walking stone giants. 

They ploughed their way through the battlefield stomping and swiping at the figures running from their path. Gnomes perched high within armoured battle suits opened fire. Their ammo brought down several of the Infernals, but more meteors rained down and their numbers were soon replenished.

Huge Doom and Felguards hacked their way through the defence lines, leaving a trail of injured and dying Azerothians. Dismebodied limbs lay twitching on the ground, their owners either crawling away in agony or lying dead, their eyes wide with horror.

Fire and frost bolts were hurled furiously at the attackers, many of which ricocheted from their heavy armour or thick demon-hide. But one or two hit home and took the hulking beasts down. Their furious roars were cut short as axe-wielding warriors stormed in decapitating the demonic spawn. 

Warlocks whizzed between their gateways raining fire on large groups of the demons and casting fear upon those who would easily outnumber the charging warriors.

Worgens advanced in pack formation, leaping for the throats of those still forging forward. Sharp fangs and claws ripped at the scaled and leathery skins of the enemies. Jugulars were torn, the flesh stretched and perforated; slick, glistening veins and arteries left pulsing, bleeding out on the fresh greenery of the forest floor. The stench violated the snouts of the Gilnean fighters.

The poisonous spines of Felhounds whipped and gouged the valiant defenders, their tormented screams rising above the din of battle. Paladins and warriors swung relentlessly, knocking some of the hounds on their sides before axes and maces were brought down forcefully, splitting the giant maws and turning their brains to mush.

Death Knights threw their paths of frost at oncoming demons. The creatures, lost their footing, slipped and slid along the icy surfaces to the waiting knights. Once the fallen bodies were heaped at the Knights' feet, cold sneers of victory preceded their rune-forged weapons being plunged into the exposed guts of the demons. As they withdrew their swords, blood and fel were whipped out, coating all within arms distance in wet, sticky strings of the offending substance.

Khadgar looked towards the demonic gates where the never-ending flow of foul spawn continued to emerge. He mopped his brow, sweat trickling down and tracing over his temples. A young mage appeared by his side. The Night Elf smiled, a strange thing to do under their current circumstances, Khadgar thought, but his mouth twitched at the corners in response.

"It is an honour and pleasure to meet you Archmage," the Elf said.

Khadgar's eyes held the mage. "Now is anything but a pleasure young man, but I get your gist. And thank you - erm - " His brow furrowed, as he thought he should perhaps know the young man's name.

"Tharaei," the Elf replied. "Tharaei Swiftfeather, at your service."

Khadgar nodded. Then he recognised the name. "Tharaei? The one who sent me a letter about – Sarah?"

"Yes. That was me. I hope I did not get her into trouble."

Khadgar could not help but grin. He cleared his throat. "That's one way of putting it I suppose," he replied.

The young mage was about to speak again when Anduin appeared at Khadgar's side. The Prince's eyes followed Khadgar's stare. "I will order the Goblins to fire at the gates, that should hopefully stem the flow."

They all ducked as another meteor impacted only a few hundred meters away. The ground shook and they watched as yet another Infernal rose from the crumbled remains of the fel-infused rock.

The Archmage nodded. "Do that Anduin. We are faring not too badly, but that will soon change if they keep increasing their numbers."

Anduin acknowledged with a brief tilt of his head and moved away. Ocel appeared close by his side shielding the young Prince. Khadgar turned back to Tharaei. "Ready to get your hands dirty, Tharaei?"

The Night Elf's eyes shone. "Yes, Sir. Indeed." He followed the Archmage to the waiting magi and awaited instruction.

The Alliance fighters were holding firm. Dealing an insurmountable amount of damage to the Legion's servants, druids in all their amazing forms tore and ripped at the Imps, Satyrs and Succubi, toppling them like dominoes. Felbats swooping low ready to spit their poisons and rake with their claws were soon immobilised, as feral druids leaped high and pulled the foul beasts from their flight paths. The felines sank their teeth into the throats of their prey and asphyxiated them within moments.

Treants, priests and shamans wielded their healing spells giving hope and regenerated strength to the fighters as they pressed forward. Golden and green shimmering domes revitalised the weary, totems purified infected bodies and runic healing circles boosted the defenders. For all their concentrated efforts however, many more lay dead and dismembered.

Demon Hunters attacked fiercely, unforgivingly, carving their way to the rear flanks. More still swooped down from overhead and ploughed through an array of demonic spawn.

Observers - huge floating, multi-eyed creatures with stinging tentacles were sliced open by the war-glaive wielding Illidari. The abominations fell to the ground in geltinous, rancid blobs. 

Fel beasts, cumbersome but strong two-headed hounds snapped and drooled their way through the throng of defenders. Again the Demon Hunters came to the fore, hacking, decapitating and gutting the creatures before they devoured those trying to forge through. Onlookers watched, mesmerised as the Illidari then absorbed soul essences of the beasts they slew, the effects of which heightened their fighting abilities, speed and strength. They were a most impressive force to behold.

From his vantage point, Khadgar saw Gul'dan. The warlock looked to be losing confidence in his demonic army. The red eyes were watching the Gnome-engineered battle suits as they approached the demonic outpourings. His face contorted with a hateful sneer as he witnessed the destruction of three of the gates.

But he would not be bested. The fel fire forming in his palm had Khadgar shouting to fellow mages and warlocks to conjure their counterspells. The orc had to be stopped from disabling the Gnomes weaponised suits.

Tharaei was first to respond but his cast just skiffed the warlock. "Too soon!" Khadgar shouted. "You must perfect your incantation and wait until you feel the magic coursing through your veins." 

The young elf nodded, grateful of the advice and tried again. Another nearby mage followed suit, his cast also brushing the target but again with little effect. Khadgar grunted. Thankfully, the orc warlock was still focused on the gnomes, which allowed the mages to hone their spells.

The Archmage nodded encouragement to the young Night Elf and began to conjure a combined spell of his own with arcane, fire and frost. Tharaei, in a bid to refine his skill closely watched the Archmage for an indication on when best to fire. 

Runes manifested around Khadgar's hands, their infusion powering the spell. His incantation became fervent, the ancient words building into a steady rhythm. Then he projected his spell and the two mages followed his lead. Their combined efforts hit their target squarely. Tharaei smiled as he saw the orc stumble.

Guldan's hateful stare turned on the magi. He sneered at the young mage and his gnarled fingers hurled a fel bolt at him. The Night Elf adroitly dodged the attack then took up position next to the Archmage once more. Members of the Kirin Tor moved forward to aid in the assault on the powerful orc. Khadgar ordered them to fan out, form a semi circle. They immediately obeyed his command.

A few yards away Erik and a small pool of hunters were firing at a pack of Felhounds which were creeping up on a group of healers who were trying to aid the injured Alliance defenders. Erik did lay claim to a superlative shot which rendered his targets immobilised, practically concussed. He reeled off many such shots while his fellow hunters fired their missiles rapidly into the demons' flanks. The hounds' legs folded and hunter pets were sent in to finish off the hellish creatures. The hunters' tactics paid off beautifully much to the appreciation of the priests, shamans and druid healers.

Taking a moment to gather focus, Erik turned towards the magi. His eyes widened as he saw a hulking doomguard storming towards Tharaei and the collective magi. He shouted a warning. Tharaei turned as the enormous winged demon loomed over him. Instantly he cast a frost bolt. The doomguard staggered back.

Gul'dan saw his advantage and as the young mage's back was turned he fired an explosive fel bolt at him. The other magi had been concentrating on pooling forces that they had been unprepared for the suddenness of the orc's attack. The bolt hit Tharaei with such force it propelled him into the air. The Night Elf landed with a sickening crunch, several yards outwith the magi semi-circle.

Tharaei cried out as the upturned blade of an axe ruptured his spine. The Doomguard he had attacked moments before, now fully recovered, made its way towards the injured mage. Just as it was about to bring its cloven hoof down on the Elf's head, Ocel swung his mace with all his might. He crippled the demon, making it fold, then he pummelled its skull until all that remained was a bloodied pulp. He quickly knelt beside the Elf, assessing his injuries.

Erik came running towards them and sank to his knees beside Tharaei. "Laddie!" he said not knowing what to do to ease the Elf's pain. He looked up at Ocel. The Draenei slowly shook his head. Erik gulped, trying to stem his tears.

The brave young Elf managed a smile. He coughed up blood, but tried to make light of his situation. "And I thought you were the impetuous one," he gasped.

"Haud on lad," Erik sobbed. "The priests will here in a moment..."

Tharaei managed to pat Erik's hand. "No, my friend. My time is done. Tell Sarah, I had the honour of meeting Khadgar and fighting alongside him." More blood spilled and bubbled from his mouth. 

His breathing slowed and the light from his eyes started to fade. "Thank you.." he managed before his final breath left him. The heroic Night Elf mage, died in the arms of his friend. 

Erik fought to stem the tears. He gently closed the Elf's eyes, and lowered his head with respect and overwhelming sadness. Tharaei had been almost like a son to him. A son who more often than not, liked to try outsmart him; and regularly succeeded.

A shadow fell over them. Anduin stood looking down at the gentle face of the Night Elf whom he had considered a good friend. He met Erik's tearful eyes.

"Can't ye do something?" the dwarf hunter pleaded. "Can't the Light bring him back?"

Anduin shook his head, deep sorrow in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry Erik. The Light can bring back those on the brink of death, but once they have passed ..." He fought his own tears. "I'm afraid that ability belongs to necromancers and would not be what Tharaei would wish for." He knelt beside Erik and Tharaei's lifeless body. "I am sorry I did not arrive sooner."

Erik looked out over the carnage and the persistent demons. From within, rage escalated. Gently, he rested Tharaei's head on the blood-soaked grass. With his crossbow and faithful wolf obeying his every command, he rose and fearlessly tore vengeance through the demons.

Khadgar and the Kirin Tor meanwhile had another mass spell ready. On his command they launched it at Gul'dan along with onslaughts from additional warlocks and mages who had crossed the battlefield to join them. The force knocked the orc back. They kept firing spells at him fast and furious, he was having no time to recover. His eyes scanned the fields. His demons were falling rapidly. 

The Gnomes had succeeded in closing all but one gate. It was no use, today was not the day for defeating the Archmage. As for the conquest of the new world where the outsider Sarah came from, it would also have to wait. Slowly, he shuffled back inside his portal and quickly closed it.

The battle continued until the Alliance forces drove demons back through the last gate where the Gnomes completed the task of closing their final doorway to Elwynn Forest. Finally, only a rogue few remained which were quickly and brutally dispatched.

Khadgar stood, Ocel and Kayn by his side, surveying the slaughter in front of them. The Archmage's eyes rested on the young Elf who had been so proud to fight at his side. His heart was heavy. Good men and women had given their lives today protecting not only Azeroth but also an alien world, unknown to them.

His steel orbs drifted to the rip above the lake. For most, it was not detectable; the subtle fluctuations almost impossible to locate even for the sharpest of eyes.

He looked back at his colleagues. They stood silently observing him, an unspoken understanding passing over their faces. Battle weary, sweating and filled with sorrow, he turned to Kayn Sunfury. "It is time."

The Illidari lieutenant nodded and asked Arcaena to return to the keep.


	23. CLOSURE

Hundreds of demons and Azerothian corpses lay scattered throughout Elwynn Forest. The numbers being most concentrated near the lake. 

Clutching Arcaena's arm, Sarah looked at the carnage below with increasing sadness as they neared the camp which had been erected to tend to the wounded and dying. With horror, she realised this was but a mere taste of what the Legion was capable of. She choked back a sob as Arcaena landed with a small bump, and set her down.

"Thank you, Arcaena," she said with eyes cast down.

The Illidari was grateful that she had not looked at her face. For all Demon Hunters had no eyes, there would be no mistaking the tautness in her jaw as a sign of disapproval. If Sarah had noticed, she would undoubtedly have asked what was the matter. Arcaena simply muttered "Welcome," then moved away.

Sarah moved between the bodies with due care and respect. Her eyes welled as she looked upon some of the faces of the brave Azerothians. Some, however, were so horribly mutilated she had to look away; the pain of their loss so intense it burrowed into her heart. 

Words escaped her. All this death and misery brought about by keeping her world safe as well as protecting their own was truly devastating. An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her. She had only ever imagined what the battlefields would be like - having only seen the cartoon versions on a screen; no real blood or guts, no sorrow on the faces of the living. Harrowing did not begin to describe it. The sheer magnitude of it all was now emblazoned on her mind.

A few feet away, she saw Erik, kneeling next to the body of a Night Elf. She faltered. No! It couldn't be. Stumbling, she made her way towards him. The kind face of Tharaei, lay lifeless, eyes closed and blood trailed over his cheek. 

She fell to her knees, crying openly as she put her arms around Erik. The Dwarf finally released his sorrow and cried against Sarah's shoulder. She ran her hand repeatedly down his coarse red hair like a mother comforting a crying child. 

She had to pull her eyes away from the Elf's serene features. Tharaei had a special place in her heart, and the pain she felt on seeing his listless body was too much too bear.

"He was a good lad," Erik wept. "A bit rough around the edges ..." He floundered; his voice strangled by wracking sobs. A few moments passed. "He said to let you know that he finally got to meet Khadgar."

Her breath hitched. It took all she had to answer. "I'm so, so sorry, Erik," she whimpered. The Dwarf simply nodded.

Footfalls from behind made her turn slowly. She looked up. Khadgar loomed over them. He stood at first surveying all the death surrounding them, then as his eyes met hers, he managed a mournful smile. He held out his hand to help her up. She shared a final moment with Erik, who nodded, letting her know he would be fine. She wiped her eyes, then rose, accepting Khadgar's hand.

As they moved away from the grieving Dwarf, she witnessed the priests, shamans and druids tending to the wounded. It was impossible for her to gauge how many had fallen this day. Even a small number of the Demon Hunters had barely escaped the Legion's wrath, although they recovered quicker than most as they continued to collect soul essences. They glanced silently in her direction as she and the Archmage passed by, exhaustion etched on the eyeless faces.

Khadgar stopped as they reached an outcrop of shrubs and rocks, a little way from the mass of bodies. Sarah turned to face him and moved closer. She placed her palms on his chest as if to steady herself. "I had no idea," she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief of the bloodshed she was witnessing.

"No," Khadgar said quietly, his hands came up to cover hers. "Then again, few of us had, Sarah."

She looked up into his eyes. His steel orbs were distant, misted, bearing the pain from the day's losses she supposed. She caught a glimpse of Arcaena over his left shoulder and a few mages to his right including the Archmage Modera who still eyed her with disdain. At that moment, Sarah graciously accepted the scorn afforded her. Her guilt ran rampant.

"I'm so sorry, Khadgar, I didn't mean ..."

"Sarah!" He spoke firmly but not unkindly. "This was not your doing." He gently squeezed her hands and she heard a sigh escape his lips.

"Well it sure as hell feels like it," she cast her eyes down. Remorse had her in its grip, refusing to release her.

He lifted her chin and kissed her mouth softly. She melted against him, all decorum abandoned; she cared not who saw them embrace and share a moment. As he ended the kiss and leaned back, a tremor occurred in her heart. 

Perhaps it was due to their standing amid so much death and sorrow, but there was a feeling of finality in that kiss. He suddenly pulled her close, wrapping her in his embrace. She listened to the beat of his troubled heart. For a fearful moment, she thought she caught a sob in his chest.

"I do love you," he whispered. There was an underlying agony in that statement. Her fingers curled around the folds of his robe, seeking reassurance, but he pulled back creating an arms-length distance between them. 

She watched helplessly as he gave the briefest of nods to his left. Arcaena appeared at her side. The Demon Hunter placed one arm around her waist and lifted her into the air. Sarah gasped. Her eyes looked down, pleading. "Khadgar? What is this?"

He simply looked at her, his lips parting but offering no utterance. He nodded once more to Arcaena. The Illidari turned and flew towards the centre of the lake. Sarah struggled against her grip but the Demon Hunter held fast, refusing to let go her quarry. Ripples in the air caught Sarah's eye.

Her eyes widened. No! He wouldn't! She looked back to where Khadgar stood. "Why?" her voice broke and still she struggled against Arcaena's grip. "Why!" Tears stung her eyes.

The magi had assembled by his side. She could see them starting to form spells; azure and violet threads wrapping and misting their hands as their fingers flexed and their mouths uttered low incantations.

Panicked, she turned to the Illidari. "Arcaena! Stop this! Put me down! Please!" She tried prying the demon hunter's fingers away but to no avail.

"I cannot, Sarah. This is for your own good. He does this to keep you safe."

"Safe? No!" She turned her eyes to Khadgar again. Still, he stood, his face set with a fierce determination. "He is doing this to punish me." Sarah's voice pitched, punctuated with sobs. She faltered as her chest burned from the painful knowledge of what was about to happen.

"You are wrong Sarah. There is nothing to punish you for."

Sarah stared and pointed at the corpses below. "No?"

Arcaena followed her gaze. "This is not your doing. The Legion laid in wait, preparing for this for many years."

"My world was unknown to you then. If I had not come here…" 

No! She did not want to think like that. Only hours before she had laid in the arms of the man she had loved more than any other. That much was real, beyond doubt. She had believed him when he said he loved her, even a few moments ago when his breath caressed her hair as he uttered those special words.

Sarah glanced one more time at the Archmage. His eyes were fixed on her. She could still make out his features, the furrowed brow and thinned lips the sorrowful eyes. 

But, why then was he sending her away? To somewhere she would never be able to return from. If he had to banish her for her crimes, why could it not be to a neighbouring region? Even another continent such as Northrend or Kalimdor had to be better than across umpteen universes where they had no hope of meeting again. 

Was it possible, that he had spoken an untruth? Her heart started to crumble. "You lied to me?" she shouted down at him. "Why would you do such a thing? What did I do that was so wrong?"

His lips parted but he failed to answer. Then she saw it. A flicker passed over his face. Regret. Just like that which he had described in his private journals in Dalaran. She felt as if her very soul was breaking apart.

Arcaena shook her a little to get her attention again. "You have done no wrong, Sarah. He simply needed you to see what he wants to protect you and your people from. He does this out of his love for you."

Sarah stared at the Demon Hunter in disbelief. "He does this out of love? Oh, please!" she hissed, still trying to wriggle free though not knowing why she was bothering anymore. But, Arcaena was many times stronger and she knew it was a pointless struggle. Khadgar had made his decision, and he had chosen his messenger well.

Arcaena's tone was gentle. "You believed in me and my love for Illidan. Why can you not believe in Khadgar's love for you?"

Sarah gradually stopped kicking and scratching. Defeated. It felt as if a Fel-reaver had reached into her chest and crushed her heart in its vice-like grip. 

Though she tried not to let the memory invade her mind she could not fight the image of their closeness, their passion, the way he'd held her. It took a concentrated effort to dismiss the images. Her mouth tightened as she looked straight into the Demon Hunter's clothbound sockets. "You do not tell someone you love them Arcaena, then coldly discard them only hours later."

And that look, she thought. Somehow, that look of regret in his eyes was the killer. She fought back the tears that burned behind her eyes until she felt them recede. "That's why I don't believe, Arcaena. I thought I meant something to him. I was wrong. I feel like such a fool." Again, she voiced in her head.

Once more, she locked her gaze with the Archmage. Her eyes were now soulless, almost as empty as the sockets of the Illidari. #

Mentally, she doused the fire that burned her shattered heart and carved a protective, icy wall around it. Never again would she allow someone to get so close to her. 

She bore down his stare. With just a hint of cold satisfaction, she saw that he had noted the change in her. His lips parted again, his brow furrowed just a fraction, but it was noticable enough for Sarah. I can be cold too, she thought, willing the sentiment to reach him.

Still, it would take immense effort to recover from this. She knew with the utmost certainty this pain would not diminish easily.

Regardless of the agony Khadgar's callous decision inflicted upon her, she nonetheless acknowledged that love was very real for her friend. Arcaena still felt the deepest of love for Illidan, and Sarah would never belittle that. 

Without taking her eyes from Khadgar, she quietly spoke to the Illidari. "I hope you find Illidan soon," she said, her voice indicating the fight had left her completely. "Hold on to him Arcaena. With all your might."

Finally she severed her contact with the Archmage and looked straight at the Illidari. "I pray you never feel this kind of betrayal."

The Demon Hunter lowered her head, deeply saddened that Sarah felt the way she did. "I will miss you," she said. "And I thank you, Sarah Metcalfe, for trusting me, after ... you know..."

Sarah understood and managed a wan smile.

The Demon Hunter pulled out a small gem from the pouch strapped to her waist. It was a most unassuming and yet strangely precious jewel. Green, with what looked like more fluorescent green shards in its centre it almost rippled in Sarah's hand. "Take this. It is a … keep sake." She smiled, folding Sarah's fingers around it. "Think of us when you look at it."

Sarah nodded then took a moment to survey the land she had grown to love. Even in the aftermath of war, it was still serene and utterly beautiful. But, her journey had reached its end. 

She tried her best to ward off the feelings of hurt and disappointment, attempting to be brave in imagining it was nothing more than her consciousness in her own world rushing back to the surface. It was time to go home. Reality beckoned. Tomorrow it would all look different.

Facing Arcaena once more however, she knew that this was something she could never forget. Having spent weeks in the magical world of Azeroth, and time with so many different individuals, races, made friends, even sparked a few hostilities - from females in particular - enjoyed various hospitality, shared their laughter – and love; she knew it was not something which would be lost like a dream on waking.

With a huge sigh, she whispered, "Goodbye, my friend."

Arcaena gave one of her lop-sided smiles although it was tinged with sadness and mouthed a silent farewell.

Sarah afforded the briefest of glances at the Archmage unable to look into the steel eyes she adored. Then she turned and reached out towards the ripples in the air.

Arcaena reluctantly released her and watched as she slipped through the void between worlds. 

The Demon Hunter pulled back as the magi instantly cast their spells of sealing at the rift. Her bound sockets turned towards them and her mouth twitched with the hint of a sneer. Her fondness of the Earth woman however made her turn her attention back to the healing rip. She remained hovering as she witnessed the edges of the doorway to Sarah's world fuse until finally it was completely closed.

She glided down to where Khadgar stood. With his eyes still locked where Sarah had vanished from his life, she wondered if he was even aware of her presence. The Demon Hunter cleared her throat. "I hope you have done the right thing Archmage, and that you will not live to regret this."

Khadgar forcefully tore his eyes away from the now healed rift. His breathing was ragged. "I just want her to be safe," he said, hoarsely. "There was no other way to ensure that."

Arcaena seemed to consider his words. But her reply conveyed no empathy. "There is always another way, Khadgar. You would do well to contemplate that." She flexed her wings then stepped away and rejoined her comrades.

Ocel had watched the whole thing from a distance. He was mystified by Khadgar's decision. Quietly, he approached him. As he levelled with his friend, he saw Khadgar's pain etched clearly in his steel eyes. It had been the hardest decision he had ever made, and it was killing him. Still, the Draenei looked at him questioningly.

The Archmage met the paladin's questioning gaze. With a deep shuddering sigh, he spoke. "It was unanimous and I accepted." Khadgar's lips tightened once more as he fought a twitch threatening to make them quiver. A solitary tear ran down the side of his nose and onto his top lip. 

He banished it with a quick wipe of his hand and his gaze returned to the sky where the rupture between his world and Sarah's had been but moments before.

Ocel slowly acknowledged the news with a nod. He now fully understood why his best friend had chosen to send the woman, Sarah Metcalfe, home. The Draenei placed a consoling hand on Khadgar's shoulder before moving away to help tend to the wounded.

**

Countless blue flashing lights lit up the night sky as fire-engines, ambulances and police arrived on site of the road accident near Kingsknowes roundabout. 

Rain battered the vehicles, roads and surrounding grassy bankings offering no sign of relenting. Big bold orange lettering emblazoned on the road side electronic billboard warned travellers of surface water on the A7 between Selkirk and Galashiels.

The sound of hydraulic Jaws of Life working on a nearby vehicle to extract a trapped driver and passengers, droned on into the night air. Shouting and hollering of the emergency service officials rose above horns still compressed and panicked voices of other road users who witnessed the accident.

Her fingers clawed into the sodden earth around her, water forming pools around her bottom and outstretched legs. Hair clamped to her face, her eyelids fluttered against the constant pounding of heavy rain. 

Oblivious, to the goings-on around her, Sarah's vision shifted from a blurred outlook on the wet, darkened world to a crystal clear vision of vehicles parked up on the grass verge. Her own Astra was amongst five other cars which ran nose to tail in a crumpled line like a giant concertina. An artic-truck lay jack-knifed in the mud along from the cars, its rear doors lying open, contents strewn across the road and wet grass.

Her head raised to the open heavens and she stared at the last torn seams of the rift between Azeroth and her world. They seemed strangely more visible on this side, she noted. Perhaps it was attributed to beams of magic the magi fired at the rip to seal it. Whatever, it was knitting together so very slowly and the temptation to leap up and burst through again was strong until she visualised Khadgar's face. 

There was no point. He had dismissed her. She was nothing but an open wound; seeping, oozing, bleeding from a broken heart.

Distantly a voice was calling her name. It was familiar, but it didn't matter. She didn't care. She had expected to find herself in a hospital bed, wired to the hilt with every conceivable beeping machine known to the medical world surrounding her. 

Instead, she sat in a pool of mud, drenched and fully conscious watching the doorway to Azeroth close before her eyes. She had not even been given respite from her experience; a chance to return to her normal life knowing that she had merely dreamed the whole thing or perhaps had no recollection whatsoever. She was cursed to remember every single moment. Every touch. Every kiss.

"Sarah! Oh my god! Sarah!" Drew came sliding across the mud and slumped down beside her. "Are you in any pain? Can you understand me?"

Her eyes turned to him, a look of pained longing residing within. Her mind had recalled the moment she had woken in Stormwind, when Khadgar had asked her the very same questions.

"I was about five cars behind you, I saw everything!" Drew spoke hurriedly. He was looking her over, searching for any obvious signs of injury. He was in a state of utter panic. "Where the hell have you been though?" He yanked off his coat and wrapped it round her shoulders. "I've been up and down this banking god knows how often and you were nowhere to be seen."

He shouted behind them for the paramedics, indicating Sarah was one of the injured. They waved compliance and gathered what they needed before heading over. Police close by also started to come towards them.

"I saw you get shunted by that truck," Drew said to her. Her eyes had glazed over. "Sarah?" He waved a hand in front of her face. Her head turned away and she looked back up at the sky. At the rip.

"I saw everything! Well...I think I did, I'm not sure what I saw. Actually, I..." Drew's eyes had followed hers and his voice dwindled. Azure and purple threads of light moved across a small section of sky like the warp and weave of a loom. His eyes widened.

An odd little sound came from his left. He looked to find Sarah still staring at the phenomenon, but she was laughing softly. "Sarah?" He laid a hand on her shoulder. From the corner of his eye he saw the paramedics nearing. Sarah's laughter escalated but then turned into a sob. He watched helpless, as she tipped over on her side, curled up in a tight ball in the pooling mud, and cried her eyes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, the first in The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles, I hope you enjoyed it. To those who also took time to comment, a huge thank you and I hope all my responses came through to you OK.
> 
> If you would like to travel back to Azeroth with Sarah, then please feel free to read Book 2 of the Chronicles called "The Dark Times Will Pass". This time, Sarah "Introduces A Friend" and they go in search of The Betrayer, Illidan Stormrage.


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